


From Beyond the Grave

by rev_eeriee



Series: Getting Along [2]
Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff, Developing Friendships, Friends to Lovers, It's spelled Ouma not Oma, M/M, Necronomicon, Revived Amami Rantarou, Slow Burn, Solving the Killing Game, V3 spoilers, like seriously you wont get this until you've read that one, sequel to "Getting Along", takes place in chapter 4
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-14 14:38:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 89,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13592211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rev_eeriee/pseuds/rev_eeriee
Summary: Sequel to Getting Along___'Is it really him?' Ouma wondered. 'No, it can't be. People don’t come back from the dead.'And yet, Amami Rantarou stood before him, looking serious and grim. For some reason, he looked a little off. His hair was messy and tousled, as if he ran his fingers through it several times, and there were bags under his eyes. Ouma supposed they didn’t look much different, but Amami didn’t have anything to worry about, did he?“You look like a mess.” Ouma commented with a twitch of his lips. He realized his voice was small and weak, almost a whisper.Amami raised an eyebrow, looking impressed. “People usually scream in terror first.”“I make it a point to be different from the norm, Amami-chan.”---AKA. Killing Game AU. Ouma and Momota continue to struggle with their feelings. Meanwhile, Amami strikes a deal and Saihara is quietly observing.





	1. “Are you confessing your love to me, Amami-chan?"

**Author's Note:**

> A few things: 
> 
> *You have to read my earlier fic entitled “Getting Along” to understand what the actual hell is happening here. I guess you could call this… a sequel? Haha.  
> *The main ship here is Oumota. They’re my NDRV3 OTP. Oumami and Saimota will be mostly BROTP territory only, sorry guys. XD  
> * This is the part where I went wild. I took a lot of facts mostly from canon, but twisted it a little bit to fit my idea of Team Danganronpa and the outside world. I also added small details that might hint to a pregame history that I may or may not write in the future… depends on how bored or content-deprived I will be when I finish this.  
> *I’m starting to get into situations here that are nothing like the scenarios in canon, so I apologize if I get the characterizations wrong. Especially Amami and Ouma… you guys know they’re tricky. At this point, I even don’t know if I’m going to give their characters justice. But I try. And the reactions they give in my fics are… reactions that I truly believe they would give.  
> *Thank you for the support you’ve given me on “Getting Along”! This will be a whole new different ride, so buckle up! :D

After the third class trial ended, Amami was almost expecting himself to suddenly drop dead.

He was a free kill after all, an existence that was simply meant to be a motive for the third murder. With the way Monokuma had been making morbid remarks about his mortality, he almost expected him to take back the life he had haphazardly given him back.

He didn’t.

Amami wasn’t sure whether or not he should be happy about that. For one, being dead was… not exactly an unpleasant experience. He sort of just didn’t exist. It was for this reason, he supposed, that death didn’t really seem so scary anymore. After all, humans fear the unknown, and to him who had gotten used to its darkness…

“I don’t mind dying if it’ll save Ouma-kun and Momota-kun. Suicide will be considered a murder, yeah?” he had said nonchalantly, the morning he was revived, reaching his hand out diplomatically as he tried to relay his point to the rest of the group. “Besides, I’m already dead. Monokuma might even take back my life any minute. So in the end, isn’t it the better option?”

Back then, everyone stared at him, dumbfounded. Amami had a nagging suspicion that he was revived for the very purpose he had just suggested, it’s just that everyone else was either too conflicted or too polite to inform him. Most nodded too easily, Saihara placed his hand on his mouth thoughtfully, and Gokuhara sobbed and pleaded to let him take one for the team instead, but nobody really listened to him.

It was decided then that Amami would sacrifice himself for the motive. Then, for formality’s sake, they’d just have to go through what would be the shortest class trial of all time. Monokuma had grumbled to himself and complained how boring that would be, but he didn’t interfere. For some reason, Amami had the feeling that the bear almost wanted to get rid of him. It probably would have been better if he killed himself right then and there, but he asked to be given at least three days to settle some unfinished business. The group, already guilty that they were asking so much from him, complied. Amami didn’t tell them what was on his mind, but ever since he opened his eyes in Yonaga’s research lab, something strange has been bothering him…

_Akamatsu-san…_

The entirety of case one seemed to be a touchy subject, as far as he could tell. Nobody felt comfortable enough to talk to a dead guy about how he died. Most of his classmates have become even more wary around him, he’s afraid. Chabashira was the most bothered, as she called him a zombie and assured Yumeno that she will protect him from his degeneracy. Tsumugi called him a cheap cop-out. Shinguuji kept staring at him with a look that seemed utterly mesmerized, as if he wanted to tear off his skin and see what’s inside. Even Saihara, who was one of the people who didn’t treat him as if he was a monster, seemed to find his presence painful, no doubt because of the memory of Akamatsu’s death.

It was such a shame, because he really wanted to know why his memory of that last day was so jumbled up. He couldn't remember what possessed him to walk towards the library, how he knew about the hidden door... He just remembered flashes of blurry images, like an old, weathered film: his monopad, the flash of a camera, a falling shot put ball, and a sudden blinding pain deep in his skull. A sickening crack resounded in his head as he fell to the floor, his own blood spilling underneath him…

“The memory of dying couldn’t be good for you. It might just be your brain protecting you from the stress of a traumatic event… I think.” Saihara speculated when he shared his concerns. Amami thought that made sense, and yet… it still unsettled him.

“I want to talk to Akamatsu-san. I’m sure you do too, yeah?” Amami told him. At that moment, Saihara’s eyes widened, and he knew he was on board. “I mean, she didn’t mean to kill me, it wasn’t her fault. So… I want to tell her I have no hard feelings about it.” Sure, that was _one_ reason, but he also wanted to prod a bit, find out what she knew. These days Shinguuji and Yonaga had been talking about the wonder of séances, because if they could revive the dead, who’s to say that they can’t talk to them as well? Amami just had a bad feeling that something about his death was off. He would prefer to solve this issue before he died again.

That was… probably a terrible idea.

The séance turned out not only a big failure, but also a horrific mess. Yonaga, who was the only one who volunteered to be the medium, was unexpectedly murdered in the middle of it. The Student Council was horrified. Yumeno weeped over her dead body. Having been the person who suggested the whole séance idea, Amami was branded a prime suspect, and was not allowed into the crime scene until the investigation was finished.

Saihara pulled him in a corner before he left, handing him the love key that Monokuma had given them back shortly after the body discovery announcement. “I’m sorry to bother you, Amami-kun, but could you please fetch Ouma-kun and Momota-kun…?”

He looked really worried. Amami thought it made sense--- Ouma and Momota had been locked there without food for three days, they must have been starving by now. Someone ought to give their poor classmates a good meal before they get thrown into the stress of the class trial once again. Saihara looked like he was _dying_ to let them out himself, but he was way too caught up in his responsibilities as the Ultimate Detective. Harukawa seemed like she wanted to go as well, but she’s also eager to prove herself useful in the investigation. Apparently she barely helped in the two trials prior. So in their stead, Amami agreed, taking the key with him. He didn’t have anything else to do anyway.

Back then, Amami didn’t have a clue that he’d be thrown into another whirlwind of drama and chaos the moment he opened that door.

Momota stood, drenched, looking desperate. Ouma laid on the bed, managing to look even way worse than Yonaga, who was already dead. Amami was expecting them to be shocked to see him. After all, he was supposed to be dead. But Ouma was too preoccupied with trying to breathe and Momota was just too distracted to really care, as he almost tore the whole place apart yelling for Monokuma to give him an antidote. Amami had to restrain him a bit when he tried to pummel the bear in frustration, when Monokuma refused to budge the first few times. Eventually the bear relented. Momota snatched the bottle from his paws as he rushed back to Ouma, brushing away a couple of tears that spilled from his eyes and fell to the Supreme Leader’s cheek.

Amami had felt like an unwanted spectator, awkwardly standing by the door. The two seemed to have gotten so close after his death, it was rather jarring. Especially when he considered their personalities, both of which he thought would only inevitably clash. But Momota was crying as he watched the Supreme Leader slowly die in front of him, recoiling from the bottle that would save his life. When nothing else seemed to work, Momota cursed under his breath and tugged at Ouma’s chin and----

Amami’s eyes widened as he looked away politely. He heard a gasp, a muffled growl, a whine--- and then finally, Ouma’s voice. Meek and small and unbelievably weak. “Momota… chan…?”

The Supreme Leader fell unconscious after that. Momota dried his tears with his sleeves and ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh of relief. He then lifted Ouma, his eyes filled with worry and tenderness for the boy in his arms. It was only then that he processed the fact that Amami was right there, and he suddenly cleared his throat and gave him a look of warning. “Not a word.”

Amami raised his hands in surrender, but he did raise an eyebrow. Momota making threats? He didn’t remember him as that kind of guy before. “Of course. Though if I may be so bold, may I ask what happened to Ouma-kun?”

Momota seemed to consider it. But in the end, he shrugged. A scowl painted on his face as if he remembered something unpleasant. “Does it matter?”

Amami smiled apologetically, noticing his not so subtle attempt to dodge the question. “I suppose not.”

“I’m taking this little gremlin up to his room.”

“Saihara-kun is waiting for you guys in the séance room though…” Amami trailed off.

“The fuck is a séance room?”

 He patiently explained to him. Momota paled.

“I-I’m not good with the occult.” He muttered, which Amami thought was amusing, considering Momota seemed to forget that he was talking to a dead man walking. “Shuuichi can manage himself, can’t he? I’ll be there when the class trial starts, I promise.” And with that he left, walking in the direction of the dormitories.

Amami supposed he needed some privacy, so he didn’t follow him.

There was a bit of a reunion when Momota showed up at the trial, but it was abruptly thwarted by Monokuma who was already eager to start. The trial continued with no problem, and as Amami expected, the murderer tried to pin his crime on him, on the prospect that he wasn’t nearly as willing to die as he would have them believe. But through Saihara’s deductions, they were able to catch the real culprit. It was Shinguuji Korekiyo, the Ultimate Anthropologist… and their resident serial killer.

 _The world is filled with ironies._ Amami thought, as he watched the anthropologist’s spirit get salted back down to earth. Such an ugly ending to the man who reveled in the beauty of humanity.

Monokuma made a small biting comment about Amami and crowd favorites, which he didn’t quite get. And then he let them go.

 _I guess that means I’m alive for good, huh._ Amami thought as he walked out of the trial grounds, catching Momota in the corner of his eye as the astronaut made a lame excuse to go back to the dorms. Perhaps he’s going to check on Ouma again. Amami put a finger against his chin as he watched Saihara’s confused gaze and Harukawa’s slightly annoyed one. Monokuma had simply said that Ouma was “out of commission”, so they must have assumed he passed out from starvation. But they didn’t know.

He smiled to himself. “Interesting.”

“Rise and Shine, Ursine!” Amami blinked and turned to the sudden sound behind him, just in time to see the two kubs stumbling over each other. Apparently they were both relieved that none of them died this trial (Amami was surprised to find out that was a thing), and Monotarou started talking about random stuff until Monophanie elbowed him about forgetting their father’s orders again. Amami supposed that was their new shtick.

“Yeah! I forgot. Father wanted to give you a present! Since everyone wanted you to stay for good as the transfer student, he said it would be unfair for you to be left out. Father is so thoughtful, isn’t he?” Monotarou said, as he handed him… the present.

Amami wondered who “everyone” was. It couldn’t have been his classmates, right? He took the present and turned it over his hands. It didn’t look like much, but he had a bad feeling.

“Please examine it in your room. You probably wouldn’t want to be found with it.” Monophanie added helpfully.

Amami frowned, but he nodded. “Okay… Thank you.”

The Monokubs looked pleased as they said goodbye. “So long, bear well!”

 

* * *

 

 

The sound of the clock resounded in the room.

_Tik tok. Tik Tok._

Ouma blinked, his eyes blurry from sleep. The bed in the love hotel suite felt nice and soft, the satin covers heaven against his skin. He felt someone’s arms around him and nuzzled into the warmth. _Momota-chan._ He thought. Who else could it be, after all?

_Tik. Tok. Tik. Tok._

_Huh. But… that’s odd_. Ouma realized. Momota was mad at him, right? He couldn’t have been right here on the bed, cuddling against him, running his fingers through his hair affectionately. Now that he thought about it, wasn’t he supposed to be back in his room, too? Right, because the motive was done. Because Angie and Shinguuji are dead----

Ouma gasped as a fist suddenly closed around his hair, fingers like talons digging against his scalp. Fear engulfed his senses as his head was forcefully yanked, and he suddenly found himself face to face with vibrant blue eyes and silvery locks of hair, smiling cheerfully with a little touch of madness in their eyes. The clock continued to run, but it was getting faster and faster and faster and faster--- racing like his pounding heartbeat.

_Tik. Tok. Tik. Tok. TIK. TOK. TIK. TOK. **TIK. TOK. TIK. TOK.**_

“You took your time, Ouma-kun~!” Yonaga said as her smile widened, crimson liquid seeping out from her upturned lips, her nose, her eyes. “Thank you for letting me die!”

 

 

When he woke up he was screaming.

Immediately, his shaking hands covered his mouth, trying to bite down the worst of the noise as he scrambled to regain his composure. He felt sick, like he wanted to throw up, but there was nothing to throw up. The last thing he ate were five pieces of chips yesterday morning that was probably already swept down the bathroom drain in the love hotel, along with bile and a significant amount of Strike-9 poison. He was breathing hard, almost hyperventilating, and it was then that he realized that his cheeks were damp. He cursed under his breath and used his blanket to dry the tears, chastising himself for being emotional, being useless, being _weak---_

_It’s all your fault. You just wanted somebody to blame, don’t you? That’s why you’re pretending to be angry at Momota._

“Shut up.” He hissed, as he took a shaky breath. Inhale, exhale. He felt his tense muscles relax, the calm spreading through his nerves like a blanket, covering up his worries. But that’s all it is, a cover up. They never really left him. They were never really gone. They were simply there beneath the surface, poking relentlessly until they find a chink in his armor, whispering in the back of his head.

His stomach growled. His mouth was dry, throat an interesting combination of numb and raw. He wished he had some water, some food. He glanced at the clock. It was seven in the morning so the dining hall should be open by now. Some people usually dawdle before going to breakfast. Maybe he could sneak and grab a quick bite to eat? He really wasn’t in the mood to face everyone right now. He felt like he would collapse before he even stepped foot out of the dormitories though, never mind keeping his Supreme Leader image.

 _Screw it._ He thought as he pulled the covers over his face, ignoring the protesting of his stomach. _This is not the first time I starved._

The silence dragged on. Ouma tried to go back to sleep, but every time he closed his eyes he was greeted with another version of Yonaga. Once she was humming happily with her neck spurting blood, and another time she was playing with a knife jutting out of her stomach. Ouma wished he just knew how exactly Yonaga died, if only to satisfy his cursed imagination with an accurate image to torture him with.

And then there’s Shinguuji. If goody-two-shoes Momota called him a “fucking psycho”, then Ouma supposed he had nothing to feel guilty about. He brought his punishment to himself. He couldn’t deny that he was slightly glad he missed his execution, though. He didn’t need another scene added to his nightly terrors.

The sound of the clock seemed a little too loud, reminding Ouma of his most recent nightmare. He covered his ears, wanting to drown it all out. _Leave me alone. Just leave me alone._ Instinctively, he reached his hand out to his side, only to remember that the ball of warmth he was hoping to touch was now gone. It’s all done. Momota wasn’t around anymore. He pushed him away, like he knew he should.

 _I don’t care._ He thought, but it awfully felt as if he was merely trying to convince himself. _I don’t care what he thinks, or does, or---_

He shut his eyes and groaned. Fuck, Momota knew everything about him now, doesn’t he? Well, not literally everything, but more than enough. Back in the love hotel, he never considered this. He was simply desperate to pass on everything he knew, everything he investigated, so that Momota could continue his work after he died. But now that he was still alive, that knowledge Momota had gathered was no longer an asset but a liability. Not taking measures to make sure he keeps his stupid mouth shut would be simply… irresponsible.

 _What am I going to do with him?_ He bit his thumbnail anxiously. Should he talk to him? _Can_ he talk to him? It felt like a bigger challenge than drinking that poison, for some reason. He felt daunted, uncomfortable. Even… scared.

But that’s not right. Why would he feel scared about facing Momota? Momota was just… Momota. There’s nothing scary about him. Sure, he had a bad temper and a knack for punching people he’s pissed off with but in the end he’s just a big softy, easily dealt with, easily manipulated ----

_“Fuck you! Why do you have to make it so hard for me? All I want is to care for you! I fucking care about you, you goddamn dipshit!”_

Ouma let out a shaky breath. God, why did he have to say that? Why did he have to save him? Why didn’t he just let him die? That’s easier, right? Why did he have to clean his room? Why did he have to look so torn, so angry, when he left last night? Why? Why why why why why?  

_He cares about me. He truly, genuinely does._

And for some reason that was more frightening than anything Ouma had ever faced. He could deal with hatred and annoyance directed at him, in fact he embraced it, but _this._ Momota didn’t save him because of some flimsy hero persona he was trying so hard to mold into, he did it simply because he cared about him. Him, Ouma Kokichi, the person.

Ouma bit his lip as he removed the covers and stared blankly at the ceiling. The clock continued to run. The silence continued to reign. Ouma used to like being left with his thoughts, being alone, but he never thought solitude could feel so… lonely.

 _No._ he realized. _It’s always been lonely._ He just wasn’t used to it anymore.

Ouma took a pillow and pulled it close to his chest, trying to imagine warm arms around him, Momota’s steady breathing. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, the nightmares would leave him alone, like they sometimes did when Momota was around. Maybe he could sleep a couple more hours, and _actually_ get some rest for a change.

Apparently, that was too much to ask for. Before he even fell back to sleep he heard soft knocks on the door. It was gentle and hesitant, almost. Ouma felt a bit of hope build up on his chest. It couldn’t have been Momota, could it? He sat up and called out. “Who’s there?”

Silence, as if the person on the door was hesitating. Finally, a familiar voice called out. “It’s me. Amami Rantarou. You remember me, right?”

Disappointment. Ouma immediately snuffed it out, letting it be replaced by mild confusion. Did he fall back asleep without realizing it? Is this another nightmare? _No._ he realized, his eyes widening. _I remember. He was there, yesterday. Wasn’t he?_

Heart pounding, he immediately stood up, only to be hit with a wave of nausea, his legs collapsing to the ground. He cursed under his breath. Stupid body, stupid legs. But he supposed it can’t be helped. He _did_ almost die of poison. Whatever damage it did to his body would not be healed immediately like some kind of magic. He still needed to recuperate, slowly. How frustrating.

Somehow, he was able to haul himself up, using the wall to support himself as he inched closer to the door. He unlocked it, opening a sliver, lilac eyes staring warily at the person on the other side of the door.

 _Is it really him?_ Ouma wondered. _No, it can't be. People don’t come back from the dead._

And yet, Amami Rantarou stood before him, looking serious and grim. For some reason, he looked a little off. His hair was messy and tousled, as if he ran his fingers through it several times, and there were bags under his eyes. Ouma supposed they didn’t look much different, but Amami didn’t have anything to worry about, did he?

“You look like a mess.” Ouma commented with a twitch of his lips. He realized his voice was small and weak, almost a whisper.

Amami raised an eyebrow, looking impressed. “People usually scream in terror first.”

“I make it a point to be different from the norm, Amami-chan.”

He laughed his usual easygoing laugh, or tried to, but he seemed distraught. Distracted. “Breakfast?”

Ouma glanced down to the tray in his hands, and instantly his mouth salivated. It looked so good. Eggs and bacon and a stack of pancakes, drowned in maple syrup. It took him a bit of effort to drag his eyes away and make a mocking sneer. “Are you trying to poison me, Amami-chan? Eager to get back to the Killing Game, are you? You did get taken out a bit too soon, missed the chance to make a spectacular murder, did you?”

Amami’s eyes widened, but it was more out of realization than indignation for being accused, as he glanced back at the food. “…Right. I could see why you’d think that. Hm.” He balanced the tray on his one hand as he took the fork and sliced a bit from the pancakes, stuffing his mouth and swallowing with a smile. “See? Not poisoned.”

Ouma’s stomach protested. He _really_ wanted to eat. But he shook his head, stomping his foot childishly, sending another wave of dizziness through his head. “Now it’s got your saliva all over it. Gross.”

Amami sighed as he made an uneasy smile. “I can’t win with you, can I?”

“Nishishi. Leave me alone, Amami-chan.”

He was about to close the door when Amami suddenly stepped his foot in against the doorframe. Ouma was tempted to slam the door on his foot, but Amami suddenly leaned in with a determined expression. “Ouma-kun. It is quite an unfortunate time, and I know you need to rest, but can you spare a moment? I _need_ to talk to you.”

Ouma tilted his head and smiled innocently. Need… what a strong word. “Hm? We _are_ talking.”

“No. This is important---”

“Are you confessing your love to me, Amami-chan? How sweet!”

“--- you’ve been investigating, haven’t you?”

Ouma’s smile faded. Amami’s green eyes stared at him, unfazed. He never thought such a coolheaded guy could look so intense, assuming this is the same Amami he met and greeted weeks ago, in their first day in this god awful academy.

He placed a finger on his cheek, looking as clueless as possible. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Amami-chan.”

Amami narrowed his eyes. He didn’t buy it. “When I left my room the day I died, I was sure I left it locked.” He said, before grabbing Ouma’s wrist with his free hand, as if making sure he won’t bolt away. “When I came back it was a mess. Someone went through my stuff, and it wasn’t Monokuma. It was you, wasn’t it? They said you knew how to pick locks. It couldn’t have been anyone else.”

Ouma clicked his tongue in irritation. He was in a rush back then. While Saihara and the others were turning the basement upside down with their investigation, he snuck inside Amami’s room, trying to find out what he knew. He didn’t learn much, but it never occurred to him to put things back in their right places. Amami was already dead, he thought it wouldn’t matter. He supposed this was another mistake that he had overlooked, another mistake that would be irresponsible to ignore.

He sighed and opened the door wider. “Come in. We have a lot to talk about.”

Amami’s eyes widened as if this was unexpected, but as soon as he walked in Ouma felt himself stagger, his vision fading, his legs stumbling---

Amami caught him by the elbow, helping him regain his balance. “Whoa. Ouma-kun, are you alright?”

He groaned as he massaged his temples. “Actually, can I eat first? I’m… starving.”

 

* * *

 

 

A good night’s sleep didn’t do anything to make last night less of a disaster. At least as far as Momota was concerned.

Scratch that--- it wasn’t even a good night’s sleep. He spent a good chunk of the evening staring at the ceiling and wondering what went wrong. Now that he thought about it, it was probably… _everything._ Momota should have expected it, really. Ouma _never_ made things easy. He was stubborn, so unbelievably stubborn. Regardless, Momota knew he was in the correct position here. Even if he was given another chance, he’d never let Ouma kill himself. He did what any sensible person would do--- save a friend in need. He wasn’t going to let him die, it went against everything he believed in. He didn’t have any regrets and never will. And yet, Ouma…

_He… hates me now, doesn’t he?_

Momota frowned. All that progress in trust and friendship, washed down the drain. They were _almost_ partners, almost--- or maybe not. How much did Ouma say just to twist his head and make him do his bidding? How many of those intimate moments were a lie to control him? He didn’t want to think about it, but the doubt nagged at the back of his mind. Maybe he had spent too much time with the Supreme Leader. Maybe his trust issues were now rubbing off on him.

He hoped not.

Ouma’s anger was irrational, Momota knew. He was probably just frustrated that his one attempt to save people’s lives didn’t work because of Momota’s intervention. Maybe he’ll get over it. If anything, Momota would really like to hear an actual apology, not some flimsy scribbled “ _Sorry”_ on an apparent suicide note. Knowing Ouma though, that was about as probable as seeing pigs fly.

Momota audibly sighed, but the sigh was abruptly turned into a fit of coughs, reminding him of his constantly deteriorating health. His chest hurt. Maybe he could slip by the warehouse and see if there are painkillers later.

When he stood up, his stomach growled. It was already ten in the morning, way past the group’s usual breakfast time. He had already woken up much, much earlier, but he didn’t have it in him to face everyone, at least not yet. Not when his head was such a goddamn mess.

Momota walked into his bathroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He looked different than he did a week ago. His features were thinner, a bit more chiseled. His hair was loose, framing his eyes, giving him a brooding look that was a little too tired and sad.

 _Some hero I am._ He thought with a bit of distaste. _Pull yourself together, Kaito._

He took a deep breath as he took out the hair gel he had recovered from his bedside table and started to style his hair, in the familiar updo that he had done for years, yet now felt out of place. Still, he forced himself to smile and put on the mask of reliability he didn’t realize he’d been wearing until now. Maybe it wasn’t only Ouma who liked going into character.

“Momota Kaito, Luminary of the Stars…” he whispered.

_“Maybe sometimes you should stop trying so hard. I don’t think there’s only one kind of hero, you know.”_

Momota touched his reflection wistfully on the bathroom mirror. And then he sighed, deciding to go out. He can’t mope inside his room forever.

As soon as he left his room he heard voices. He peeked a little bit, trying not to eavesdrop, but curious nonetheless. There in the hallway he saw Amami holding a breakfast tray in front of Ouma’s room, talking to somebody inside. And then he hesitated as he was allowed in. After a while, Ouma poked his head out and scanned the area, meeting Momota’s eyes for a long moment. Something flashed in his eyes that Momota could not place, but then he forcefully tore his gaze away and slammed the door close.

Momota frowned. Ouma and Amami. Were they close before? He couldn’t remember. It’s been so long since the guy died. _Died…_ Momota shivered. Amami was supposed to be dead. He _was_ dead. Wait… wasn’t it a tad bit dangerous for Ouma to hang out with such a shady guy? Well, he _was_ nice yesterday, didn’t even pry. So Momota supposed he didn't have bad intentions. Besides, Ouma knew how to take care of himself… when he’s not alone in a love hotel bathroom guzzling lethal poison, anyway.

 _At least I’m sure Ouma is eating._ He thought to himself. Now that he realized that, he made a mental note to thank Amami later. Still, it left a bad taste in his mouth, and he had no idea why.  

He decided to ignore the sinking feeling and push through with his plans. Food. Right. He started his walk, to a late breakfast or early lunch, whatever works, hoping against all hope that the dining hall would be deserted by now.

No such luck.


	2. "Because I'm not a horrible person."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ouma realizes a crucial information. Momota mopes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter! Yay! i don't have much to say except that I'm excited in the direction I want this fic to go! :D 
> 
> Shoutout to "Himiko's Magic World"! You guys are the best. Love you all. XD 
> 
> Also Otabek_Altin, SMACK THE DAMN BUTTON ALREADY MY DUDE.

The food was _heavenly_.

After three days of starving inside the love hotel, Ouma savored the breakfast Amami had brought him, carefully and slowly swallowing each bite. His instinct was to stuff his face in, but of course he knew better than to do that. He knew it would only upset his stomach. As the hunger pangs started to subside his mind started to clear, and he was finally, _finally_ feeling like himself again. He could probably insult fifteen Irumas and piss off thirty Harukawas at this point.  

In a corner of his head, a thought nagged at him. _How many Momotas can you face, then?_

He really hated it when his mind goes all smartass on him. This morning he saw him just as he was leaving his room. Their eyes met for a few moments, yes… but Ouma felt stumped. Unsure. He didn’t know how he felt about him right now, honestly.

“You look sick.” Amami’s sudden comment distracted him from his thoughts, as the mystery man absentmindedly played with the rings on his fingers.

“Wow, what a truly remarkable observation, Amami-chan. Didn’t know you had it in you.” He replied, smiling sarcastically. But Amami continued, unfazed.

“You… tried to kill yourself, didn’t you? With poison?”

“Hmm~” Ouma hummed as his expression blanked, watching him intently as he took another bite of his food. “Is that the story you’ve convinced yourself with, Amami-chan? To reconcile the events you saw yesterday?”

Amami shrugged as he raised both of his hands in a calm, confident manner. “Well, it was the only explanation that made sense. Momota-kun was so distraught, trying to save you. I couldn’t imagine that he’d act like that if he poisoned you himself. So you _did_ do it, didn’t you?”

Oh god. If this ended up being the entire reason Amami had on his mind for wanting to talk to him, Ouma wanted him gone. He _wasn’t_ depressed like Hoshi, nor was he suicidal. He didn’t need more of those “Your life is precious” pep talks. Not after last night. He just wanted this topic done and over with. He placed the fork down and gave Amami a look of challenge. “So what if I did?”

Silence reigned between them as they stared intently at each other. Ouma’s gaze was sharp, almost threatening. On the other hand, Amami’s was collected and calm. After a while, the green-haired lad’s eyes twinkled, as if saw something he liked. He finally replied. “It means you care about the well-being of the group, enough to put it over your own life. It means you’re doing all _this_ \---“ he gestured at the white board behind him. “--- to help everyone get out of the Killing Game. And it means…” he suddenly took out something from his pocket and tossed it over to his bed, right beside his lap. “… that you’re on my side.”

Ouma’s eyes widened when he saw the familiar rainbow-colored tablet, taking it into his hands and turning it over in his fingers. He frowned. A kubs pad? Why would Amami have a kubs pad in his possession? He was already gone when it was distributed. Unless…

“The Monokubs gave that tablet to me right after the third class trial. To make sure I’m not left out, so they said.” Amami explained. “It helped me remember a bit… and helped me recall what my Ultimate talent was.”

Ouma raised an eyebrow, his eyes suspicious and wary. He gave Amami a look. “And why are you telling me this, exactly?”

“I thought something was off with it. But I needed someone else’s opinion. Someone who’s more well-informed, yeah?” he sighed heavily as he placed his hands on his hips. “And besides, I… I want to show you that you can trust me. Maybe then, you’ll consider my proposition.”

“Proposition?”

Amami shrugged. “A suggestion. A deal. If possible, I want to… work together.”

_Work together._ Ouma felt numb, remembering that one time Momota said something similar. He had been quick to shut him down back then, but he never imagined he would relent eventually. Momota said they were partners, but now that Ouma broke his promise and betrayed his trust…

“I’m not a good team player, Amami-chan.” Ouma muttered, honestly. There was once a time when he was… but that was back when people’s lives weren’t at stake. “I’m a horrible partner. Why would you want to work with me and not, say, Saihara-chan? He’s a detective. He’s more than qualified.”

Amami was silent for a long while, as if he was asking himself the same question. Finally, he steeled his gaze, as if he had found a resolve, and replied. “Because I’m not a horrible person.”

Ouma frowned, not quite understanding, but he looked down at the tablet, deep in thought. So this was Amami laying down the foundation of… whatever this partnership was supposed to be. He looked in control, calm. His face was smooth and level, not betraying any desperation or misgivings he may have.

What was Amami’s talent, anyway? Why would the ringleader go out of their way to remove his memories of it? And if it was so important, why would they suddenly reveal it this way? That in and of itself was strange. As Ouma turned on the kubs pad, he resolved to take everything he learns with it with a sliver of doubt. In essence, the motive videos were like flashback lights, after all. And those flashback lights were already more than questionable.

The screen turned on. Monokuma’s voice sounded grating on Ouma’s ears, as the video started to play.

**_“Alright! Back by popular demand, it’s time for the motive video! Who’s the most important person in your life? And now, without further ado…”_ **

Ouma stared at the introductory image, Amami’s silhouette in the blue backdrop, adorned with the words: “Amami Rantarou’s Motive Video: What is your Motive?”. Nothing strange there. Ouma had watched his own motive video enough times to know.

**_“Amami Rantarou, the Ultimate ---”_** The audio made a series of crackling and glitching noises, before continuing. **_“--- Adventurer.”_** Ouma raised an eyebrow. _Adventurer?_ He glanced up at Amami. Does he look anything like an adventurer? Well, he does have that strange design on his oversized shirt, and now that Ouma thought about it, it looked awfully like a compass… or a ship’s steering wheel. His calm demeanor and adaptability certainly would make sense if he was the kind to jump across countries of different cultures… _It suits him._ he decided. But that’s… odd. Didn’t Monokuma say that his talent would have been useful for the group had he lived? Ouma was sure the bear did. Why would being an adventurer be useful in a Killing Game? It didn’t make sense. The video continued.

**_“He searched far and wide, through land and sea, for the twelve younger sisters that he so loved. What a responsible older brother, am I right? Never mind that it’s his fault they’re lost in the first place! Upupupupu!”_** There was what looked like a family picture of Amami with twelve girls that was obviously younger than him. They looked happy… Ouma bit his lip, not liking where this was going.

“ ** _I’m was going to say an unfortunate event befell these precious people, but it already befell them, unfortunately! We did find something you might be interested in, though---“_** The change in script made him perk up in interest, that is, until he saw the next photo and dropped the kubs pad on the bed in horror. **_“Hurry up, onii-chan! You have eleven left! You still have to keep searching, don’t you? Upupupupu.”_**

The tablet turned off. Ouma was left staring dumbfounded.

Finally, he found the voice to ask. “…Who was that?”

Amami’s reply was curt. Cold, almost. “The youngest one.”

Ouma closed his eyes and took a deep breath. No, he wasn’t going to give his condolences. The photo might very well be fake. Well, all of Amami’s sisters might very well be fake as well, but he didn’t need to know that. It might break the wall of calm that he had been building up, and it would be such a shame to lose such a powerful piece so early in the game… _again_. Instead, Ouma opened his eyes and stared back at the… Ultimate Adventurer.

“You don’t believe it, do you? That it was your sister.” Ouma muttered. It was the first time that Amami visibly faltered, as he swallowed hard.

“If that’s what it takes to keep my sanity.”

Ouma stifled a smile. He knows a thing or two about trying to keep your sanity. He was on his breaking point, truth be told. So many things he needed to deal with, so many emotions he was struggling with… he’s tired of it all. But giving up was not an option. Not this time.

Ouma intertwined his fingers, letting his cold logical mind take over, as he digested the video he had just seen. “How do you feel about your talent, Amami-chan?” he found himself asking. Amami looked like he expected the question.

“It felt… accurate. Fitting. When I watched that video, it just clicked, and suddenly a lot of my memories made sense. On the other hand though, while I have little doubt that I am indeed the Ultimate Adventurer, it felt… lacking.”

“Lacking.” Ouma echoed, deep in thought.

Amami nodded as he sighed. “It’s as if I’m still missing something. Something important. Something I should know…” a bit of frustration edged at his tone, as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Anyway, that’s it. You all saw your motive videos, too, I assume?”

“No.” Ouma replied, and it wasn’t technically a lie. They didn’t _all_ see their motive videos, after all. Just him and Tojou. “The monokubs fucked the distribution up, and exchanged most of our motives. I thought it was a tad bit scripted though. If it was really a complete mistake, Monodam would not have been able to put the tablets back after I stole them.”

Amami looked amused. “You _stole_ them?”

Ouma shuddered at the memory of the Insect Meet and Greet gone wrong. “It’s a long story, Amami-chan.”

“So you watched my video. What do you think?”

Amami was staring at him critically, as if he was testing him. As if he was gauging if he would be worth his time. Interesting. Ouma was usually the one giving others such treatment. He leaned in and giggled.

“You’re right, Amami-chan. It _is_ pretty weird.” Ouma replied as he placed a finger on his cheek. “I think the motive was awfully strong. Too strong. And the timing is just too perfect. Almost as if… Monokuma wanted you to be the next killer.”

Amami looked thoughtful. “It does seem like it, doesn’t it?”

“Hmm~” Ouma hummed as he placed his tray of food on the bedside table, standing up on wobbly legs. He took measured steps as he walked towards the whiteboard, taking Yonaga and Shinguuji’s pictures and placing it on the proper columns --- victim and culprit. He took his whiteboard marker and connected them with a line. “How did Angie-chan died, Amami-chan?” he suddenly asked out of the blue.

Amami seemed to be caught off guard. “A séance.” He replied, and for a moment there was guilt on his voice. “It was my idea to perform one. Shinguuji used the opportunity and made a clever seesaw trick with the floorboards. She was cut with a scythe on the back of the neck.” 

Ouma nodded as he draw a tiny scythe on the whiteboard. He remembered Shinguuji talking about séances, that day when his lab opened. “Why a séance? Who were you guys trying to talk to, exactly?” He asked curiously.

“Akamatsu-san.”

Ouma frowned. _Huh._ He glanced back at him. Amami played with his rings again, a nervous habit, perhaps.

“I think Monokuma wants to get rid of me.” Amami said. “But he couldn’t do it directly, for some reason. Maybe it’s because of the rules. Maybe it’s because he’s bound by whatever “everyone” wants… whoever those are.” He hesitated. “I think it’s why he gave me the motive. If I do kill someone and he set me up to be caught, I _will_ be caught. It’s just how it is. Especially since… this ringleader didn’t have a clean record on fairness in the first place.” 

The Ultimate Adventurer was staring at him with a meaningful gaze, urging him to just _get it_ , without saying it outright. He threw the clues out in the open as he waited for Ouma to put two and two together. _Wanted to get rid… A clean record on fairness… Akamatsu-chan…_ The Supreme Leader’s eyes widened as a realization. He remembered Amami’s words: _“Because I’m not a horrible person.”_

Dread trickled in his gut. _No. No way…_ He could still remember the last time he saw Akamatsu, hung by the neck above a giant piano. The way she struggled as she was slowly strangled to death… _I voted for her._ He felt sick. _I played into the ringleader's hands…_ He staggered. _Akamatsu-chan died for a sin she didn’t commit._

Was it true? Was Amami certain? No… he couldn’t ask these things yet. For all he knew, the ringleader was currently listening. Amami must have been aware of this too. It must have been why he decided to reveal his information this way.

Ouma suddenly looked up. “Amami-chan, carry me.”

Amami blinked in surprise. “Carry you?”

He grinned, a cheerful, childish grin that felt weird on his lips, as he swallowed the dread down his throat. “Yeah! I demand a piggy back ride. You’re not allowed to refuse, since you’ll be my underling from now on!”

Amami caught on quickly, an amused expression on his face. “Okay…?”

“Nishishi! That’s what you wanted isn’t it? Let’s make you into an honorary member of my evil secret organization! When we get out, assuming you’re still alive, we can talk about the contract and the workload and all the boring legal stuff.” He said cheerfully as he hauled himself up. “My legs suck right now, and I can’t walk properly. You have to be my legs for me, at least for a little while.”

Amami frowned. “Are you sure you should be moving about? You shouldn’t be pushing yourself, Ouma-kun ---“

“Nonsense! These idiots we call our classmates can’t even bear to refrain from killing each other for a week, Amami-chan. You think I’m going to lie down and wait when I have this exciting new development in front of me? Over my dead body.”

Amami still looked worried, but he knelt down in front of him nonetheless. Ouma threw his arms over his shoulders, clutching on tight. Amami put his arms to support him by the rear and stood up with a bit of a “Whoa”. But as soon as he did, he frowned.

“Ouma-kun?”

“Hm?”

“You’re _feather_ light.”

Ouma giggled. “That’s kind of what starvation does to you.”

Amami frowned, unconvinced. “You’re also… kind of burning up. Are you sure you’ll be fine?”

“Do you really think it’s the right time to dawdle, Amami-chan?”

Amami fell silent. Ouma let him be, at least until he giggled and pointed his finger to the door. “Onwards, Amami-chan! We have no time to lose!”

“Where are we going exactly?”

“To visit a friend! We’re going to pick up something very important!”

Amami seemed to ponder this for a moment. “A friend... you mean Momota-kun?” Ouma’s smile faltered. His body tensed. Amami seemed to notice his distress. “Why? Is something wrong? Did the two of you get in an argument or something?” he asked, confused.

Ouma buried his face in his hair. “None of your business.” He practically growled. “But to answer your _other_ question, no, it’s not Momota-chan.”

Amami hesitated. He seemed like he wanted to prod some more but thought better of it. He adjusted him on his back and nodded. “Okay then. Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

“Momota-kun, I’m so sorry!”

“Please accept our deepest apologies, Momota-kun. We didn’t see any of it coming---“

“Gonta sorry! It’s all Gonta’s fault he capture Momota-kun!”

“I can’t believe I’m apologizing to a degenerate male, but I have to admit ---“

“Nyeh… Angie’s dead now but… I’m sure she’s happy with Atua now that you’re safe…”

 

 

“Momota-kun? Are you alright?”

 

Momota blinked, just in time to see Saihara staring at him with a worried expression. He only realized then that he was staring at nothing, poking at his food as the barrage of apologies from the former members of the Student Council mashed together in his head. He swallowed down his pancake, but it may as well have been cardboard by the way it felt against his throat. “Y-Yeah? I’m fine. I’m totally fine.”

“Ha! _Spacing_ out?” Iruma cackled, amused at her own attempt at humor. “Bet the shitty shota blew your fucking brains out! A week in a love hotel, and you didn’t fuck? As if! He probably choked on your cock, that’s why he passed out--- ”

A loud bang resounded across the room as Momota suddenly stood up and slammed his hand against the table. Iruma screeched and immediately started mumbling apologies. The rest of the group was silenced. Momota looked angry for a moment, but his expression suddenly softened as he realized what he’s done, raising his hand to press the bridge of his nose. “… Sorry.” He muttered, sighing. “I’m… not feeling well. I’m going back to my room.”

He pushed his plate away from him. His food was barely eaten. He hoped it wasn’t too rude to suddenly leave the table. Well, he was the only one eating anyway. Everyone already finished theirs. But apparently once they saw him coming, everyone just kind of... decided to stay and resume the reunion they weren’t able to hold last night.

Not that he didn’t appreciate it. He really did! It’s just that… his head was too messed up, too muddled, to really give two shits right now. And somehow throughout that disastrous morning, he still couldn’t help but think about that scene in the dormitories, of Ouma letting Amami inside his room, when he made it clear that he didn’t like people in his personal space before. One step inside Ouma’s room and you will see all the effort he’s been doing, did Amami know all about it? We’re they close before? Were they partners before? Now that Amami’s back, doesn’t Ouma need him anymore ---

“Momota-kun.”

Not to mention that Amami hasn’t come back to the dining hall to put back the dirty dishes yet, and it’s been a while. What are they doing inside there? Talking? Catching up? Something else?

“Momota-kun.”

It was probably the thought that Ouma just easily let someone in the same room he chased him out of that was pestering him. Plus the thought that Ouma hasn’t probably recovered yet from the poison that made him worry even more. How is he holding up? Is he feeling alright? He seemed to be standing up fine this morning, but he looked pale. Well, paler. Why was he always pale, anyway?

“Momota-kun!”

And goddammit, Momota wished he could turn back time an hour and decide not to leave his own room because that scene was still bothering the shit out of him. And what was _that_ attitude of his? Why did he have to lash out at Iruma of all people? Everyone knew not to take her seriously. But still, it felt extremely disrespectful to let her talk about Ouma like that when the fucker almost died trying to be a hero. She didn’t know. They didn’t know. They didn’t have a fucking clue ---

“MOMOTA-KUN!”

He suddenly felt someone grab at his arm just as he was about to kick a piece of rock into the corner. He was still in the school corridors, he realized, and Saihara was right there in front of him, looking a little frustrated. He blinked for a moment, before muttering. “… Shuuichi. Hey.”

Saihara looked at him incredulously and if he wasn’t the polite detective that he is he would have huffed indignantly. “Hey? _Hey?_ That’s it? I was calling out for you, Momota-kun.” His frustration turned into worry as he watched his face. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick? You’re not acting like yourself.”

_Sick. That’s funny._ He thought. He _was_ feeling sick, but it wasn’t the illness that’s been bothering him, not really. What the hell was he doing? What kind of hero lets his sidekick worry about him? He had an image to uphold, a duty to keep. He was Momota Kaito, Luminary of the Stars, hero of the Universe and this Killing Game alike… except he was emotionally drained. Tired. It’s lame. It sucks. He took a deep breath. “Sorry. I… I guess I’m still not completely here yet.” As soon as he said it, he realized it was true. Perhaps a part of him was still left there inside the love hotel, still pounding relentlessly and calling out for Ouma to open the fucking door. But he wasn’t opening it. And it was breaking his heart.

Saihara looked even more worried. “Did something happen? I… I’m your friend, Momota-kun. I may not be much help but, ah…” he trailed off, his hand reaching up to lower the hat that was no longer there. When he realized his mistake, he let his hand fall to his side awkwardly. “I mean, I’m sure you can handle yourself, but if you need someone to listen…”

Momota found himself smiling. Wow, his sidekick grew a lot while he was gone. He grew a lot on his own --- _He doesn’t need me to grow._ Something whispered inside him, the insecurity of not being needed, but he pushed it away. He forced a grin as he raised his hand and ruffled Saihara’s hair. Ouma’s hair was softer, he realized, and he missed it. God, he missed it. _Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck --- Get out of my head!_

“Thanks, Shuuichi. But I’m fine. Really, I am.” Lying came easy now. Hah. Ouma would be proud, if he cared. But he probably doesn’t. Yeah, he probably doesn’t. He probably just didn’t have a choice back then. He needed someone to leave his will to, and Momota just happened to be the only available person for the job. Goddammit, why was he so stupid? He should have realized this sooner. He really is a fucking idiot ---

Saihara was staring at him still. Momota realized he needed to distract himself, and maybe distract Saihara too, before the detective in him starts putting things together. It was then that he realized it. “Where’s Harumaki? I haven’t seen her around this morning.”

Saihara blinked, but then he smiled awkwardly. “Harukawa-san doesn’t stick around after breakfast, so I suppose she must be in her lab by now… why?”

“Let’s hang out.” Momota found himself muttering. It was only after he said it that he felt some of his lost energy coming back to him, a bit of an excitement to spend some time with his sidekicks again. He missed those simple moments, back when he was just hanging out of Saihara and Harukawa and not obsessing over a certain Ultimate Supreme Leader that he may or may not be angry with. “Let’s do something!” _Anything, please._

A smile ghosted Saihara’s lips as he nodded. “Actually, we were planning to check out the new areas after lunch, but we can do it now if you want. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.”

“Oh, right. The Monokubs already gave you the weird knick knacks, right? They always do so the morning after class trials.”

Saihara nodded. “Right…” he trailed off. “There’s also something else…” he suddenly looked uncomfortable. Momota frowned.

“Is everything alright, Shuuichi?”

Saihara hesitated. Then he glanced around the corridor, as if making sure nobody was listening in. “I… I suppose the group might not agree, but I want to try something.“ he cleared his throat. “Actually, why don’t we talk about it in Harukawa-san’s lab?”

Momota nodded. “Sure, I guess.”

Saihara smiled, looking relieved. As they started walking towards the direction of the Ultimate Assassin’s lab, Momota couldn’t help but look outside the barbed window, overlooking the dormitory building. And perhaps fate was taunting him, because he happened to look outside just in time to see Amami leaving the dorms, with Ouma riding on his back, smiling and giggling like a child, pointing in the direction of Iruma’s laboratory.

He murmured a curse under his breath and tore his eyes away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Ultimate Adventurer" is Amami's talent in one of the bonus mode, a talent that I assume he had before he became the "Ultimate Survivor", for those who don't know. 
> 
> And yes, I love Amami, and I hope I am giving his character justice. XD


	3. "I'm alive! It's awesome!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saihara observes. Amami worries silently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Three! I'm sorry it took so long, or did it? Idk, honestly. My aim right now is to post at least one chapter to this story every week but I've been a little *cough cough* busy with certain other personal projects. 
> 
> Momota and Ouma aren't talking yet. They're honestly killing me. 
> 
> Special thanks to Comatose_Overdose for betareading this chapter. Looking forward to that thing you're working on, Zay! XD 
> 
> Special shoutout to Otabek_Altin.... *stares at you intensely and whispers* You know why, buddy.

Something was off with Momota, something Saihara couldn’t figure out.

He noticed it back when the Ultimate Astronaut finally came back from his imprisonment, raising a hand to greet them as they started the third class trial. He grinned and smiled and participated as usual, but every once in a while his expression would become thoughtful, especially whenever his eyes met the empty space where Ouma was supposed to be. At the time, Saihara had assumed that he was just probably bothered by Ouma’s absence. After all, even the detective was slightly caught off guard by how smooth the class trial went when there wasn’t a lying little gremlin that tried to stump their progress every step of the way. On the other hand, for some reason, the trial was also… more difficult than usual. He found himself working twice as hard to solve the mysteries. Ouma does things in unorthodox ways, but no one can deny that his hints were very helpful.

The more he stared at Momota back then though, the more he was convinced that there was something else. The astronaut tried his best to hide it, but his body language betrayed his thoughts. His fingers were tapping on his podium incessantly, impatiently, as if he just wanted the whole ordeal to be done and over with. He looked restless and, dare Saihara say it, _uncomfortable_. Anyone who knew him for five seconds knew Momota Kaito was never uncomfortable, except perhaps in the face of the occult. Something had happened, something big, something that changed Momota a bit, internally. It only fed Saihara’s suspicions when he left the group in a rush, words that sound stiff and practiced flowing from his lips, an excuse to get away.

Saihara couldn’t help but worry for his friend. Because that’s what Momota is, right? His… best friend.

He decided to let it go. Maybe he’s overthinking it. Maybe Momota just felt tired. He just got out from the mess of the love hotel incident, after all. The detective still feels guilty about that. If only he had come to see them sooner…

And then Momota missed breakfast.

Well, he didn’t _technically_ miss breakfast, he just sort of went in late. But that was already strange in and of itself. Momota used to be so gung-ho about not skipping meals and taking care of yourself and getting just the right amount of sleep since he was an astronaut trainee. But when he came to the dining hall, there were bags under his eyes. He didn’t even finish his breakfast. The way he snapped at Iruma was out of character too, which made Saihara suspect there’s something else going on here. He wasn’t acting like himself at all. Seeing Momota Kaito like this made Saihara realize that he was human just like the rest of them, despite how bright and blinding he could be in the darkest of times.

Saihara hoped that he’d soon get over whatever was bothering him. He wished there was something he could do to help, but whenever he asked, Momota simply brushed him off with a smile and a noncommittal “I’m fine.” It was starting to get frustrating, when he was obviously _not_ fine, but Saihara supposed it was not his place to pry.

When they entered the Ultimate Assassin’s lab, Harukawa was there in her training area, whipping up a dagger and disemboweling a training dummy with ease. When she glanced over in their direction, she didn’t even look like she had broken a sweat. Her expression lit up, just a little bit, hardly noticeable. Over time, Saihara had learned how to pick up these small cues from her, the bits of true emotions that she could not properly express due to her guarded personality. If he’ll be honest, Saihara still felt a little unsure around her, but he kept training with her in Momota’s absence, and he supposed they had gotten a little… closer. Saihara knew that while her talent is very dangerous and frankly rather shocking, she wasn’t a bad person. She just protected the people she wanted to protect.

Momota grinned when he saw her, outstretching his arms like he expected a hug. “Harumaki!”

Harukawa rolled her eyes and huffed, but there was a slight flush to her cheeks as she approached them, expertly playing with the dagger before putting it back in its sheath. “Looks like the idiot is back again. I’m glad you survived.”

“I’m not an idiot.” Momota instantly retorted, but his tone sounding genuinely irritated. Harukawa blinked, looking like she was about to apologize (it was just a joke, and Momota didn’t seem to take it to heart before), but before she could say anything, Momota continued with a proud tone. “And yeah, I’m alive! It’s awesome!”

Harukawa gave Saihara a look. It seems he wasn’t the only one to notice Momota’s odd behavior. “Would have been better if the asshole died along the way, but he survived too, didn’t he?”

Momota suddenly stiffened. He looked a bit indignant for a moment, as if there was something he desperately wanted to say, but he stopped himself in the last moment and scratched the back of his head. “Geez. You guys are hopeless. Hating each other… isn’t good. You and Ouma both.”

“I didn’t do _anything_ for him to hate me. I was just minding my business.” Harukawa started to argue, her red eyes flashing murderously. But Momota chuckled sadly as he placed his hand on her head affectionately.

“To Ouma, that was probably enough. You never really showed him your more likable traits, did you, Harumaki? It’s easy to hate a person you don’t know well. So… just cut each other some slack.”

Harukawa blinked at the sudden affection. She blushed as she pushed his hands away and started fumbling with her ribbon. “Do you wanna die?” she asked out of habit, but her tone lacked its usual bite.

“Haha! No, I don’t!” Momota replied with a huge grin. “Anyway! Let’s check out the new areas!” he suddenly said enthusiastically, eager to change the subject. “Where are the knick knacks? You’re usually in charge of them, aren’t you, Shuuichi?”

“Yeah…” Shuichi replied as he fished inside his pocket and took out a paintbrush, a strange blue stone with the school crest on it, and a card key. “They called these… an Octobrush and a Levistone? I’m not really sure, the reference is lost on me.”

“But I bet _some_ people are eating it all up.” Momota muttered, almost to himself. Before Saihara could ask what he meant, he already took the card key and examined it against the light. “Hey, Shuuichi, do you think this is for that hidden door…” he trailed off.

“The one in the library? To be honest, I thought it might. I honestly wanted to go look.” Saihara replied. “But there’s something about that card key…”

Harukawa shrugged. “Monokuma said it’s a motive, so whatever door it’s going to open, it can’t be good. Everyone agreed not to use it… and gave it to Saihara-kun for safekeeping.”

Saihara nodded. It was such a heavy trust that they had placed on him, so much so that it made him a little anxious. Though most only reluctantly agreed (Chabashira said she could not trust a degenerate male to take care of it, but if its Saihara, she might just let it pass), it still felt like a heavy burden. Everyone else trusted him with this, to make sure the card key would never be used, but in his head a silent voice nagged at him… was that really the right choice? They tried over and over again to thwart Monokuma’s motives by ignoring them, but three murders already occurred regardless. Was it really the right choice to ignore it? The detective in him was restless, curiosity burning in his very soul.

Momota, as usual, seemed to notice his unease.

“Well, Shuuichi is reliable, I’m not surprised. It’ll be fine, ease up!” He said as he grinned and tapped him some on the back, before his smile faded. “But then again, isn’t it a little cowardly to run away from danger when it’s right in front of us? I thought, I dunno, maybe we could do something about it! At least check out if it really is the card key for the hidden door in the library? If it opens the door, we’ll just close it immediately afterwards.”

Saihara frowned. Something about what Momota said sounded familiar… then he realized why. It was the same words Ouma said back when they were given the motive videos. _Huh._ He thought. _That’s…_ he didn’t know what to think of it.

“I…” Saihara hesitated. “I was actually thinking of doing the same thing. I thought it would be better if we can confirm, so that if something ever happens and I… _lose_ the card key somehow…” he trailed off. He didn’t trust himself to take care of this unassuming piece of plastic. “… we can just watch the hidden door and make sure nobody enters it. I-I mean, I’m sure everyone would just rather not use the card key at all but, ah…” he licked his lips and stared at his two friends. Momota was nodding, while Harukawa bit her thumbnail, pondering his suggestion.

Finally, she nodded. “It makes sense. If we confirm that it’s for the library, then we should probably secure the area and warn the others against hanging out there or something.”

Saihara felt relief surge through him. “Great!” he grinned before he caught himself, his hand reaching up again for his hat --- ugh. “We can check it later tonight. And… if it wasn’t a bother, I think it’s better if we try to open it together? Just to make sure that we, uh…”

Momota caught on quickly. “Three people won’t look so suspicious. Nobody would think we’re trying to check the motive ourselves, since we’re looking out for each other. I think it’s a good plan, Shuuichi.”

Saihara smiled, relieved.

Harukawa simply nooded. She regarded the stone and the brush that was still clutched in Saihara’s hands. “In the meantime, why don’t we check what those items open? I saw some weird podium that might fit the stone near Iruma’s research lab.”

Momota made a small strangled noise that was so unlike him Saihara wondered if he’d imagined it. The astronaut made an uneasy expression. “Actually, why don’t we check the third floor first? I think the aesthetic of the brush would fit with some artifact there.”

Saihara frowned. The third floor was _hell_ for the Ultimate Astronaut, with its creepy vibe and scary atmosphere. Momota even refused to go in there when it first opened, blanching at the sight of dimly lit corridors and fake blood. The fact that he’d rather check it first than go to the Ultimate Inventor’s lab made the detective wonder if he was somehow avoiding something… well, Iruma would probably be in her lab by now, so maybe he’s not feeling too keen on seeing her again after his outburst. _Yeah.. that makes sense._

Harukawa nodded coolly. “Third floor it is. Let me first tidy up here, then we’ll go.”

They nodded in response. Saihara even helped her clean up the remains of the dummy she had just “assassinated”, but when he looked over at Momota, he had a strange look on his face, seemingly deep in thought. His fingers were writing something in the thin film of dust that accumulated on one of the shelves, symbols Saihara didn’t recognize.

The he frowned and erased it with a fist, leaving him to silently wonder.

 

* * *

 

When Amami and Ouma arrived in the Ultimate Inventor’s lab, it was empty. Which was a little odd, especially since Ouma knew the inventor was usually here around this time in the morning. Sometimes working on their projects, sometimes doing maintenance on Kiibo in that strange, perverted manner of hers. Regardless, he slid down Amami’s back, the Ultimate Adventurer helping him stand upright as his eyes scanned the area, looking for the Bugvac.

Ouma needed to have a nice, long talk with Amami, he knew. But it was not a talk both of them would be willing to partake in as long as there is a risk that the ringleader can hear them and foil their plans. When it comes to keeping things private, he supposed the Love Hotel was the safest and most suitable. However, he didn’t have a Love Key in his possession at the moment, nor did he have enough casino coins to buy one. Amami didn’t seem to be the gambler type either, unlike Momota. Ouma knew that blind spot in security was something that would come in handy, something he’d certainly take advantage of in the future, but not right now. He didn’t think he was emotionally ready to come back there just yet. Besides, it’s not like he didn’t have any options…

_Assuming Iruma-chan kept working on it while I was gone…_

As if on cue, the door of the lab opened, and the Ultimate Inventor walked in, but something about her seemed… off. Her spirits were down, her shoulders tensed, and her posture was turned inwards in a defensive state. She looked like she was just scolded for something, which was interesting. _Did someone grow a backbone here while I was locked up?_ Ouma thought. He found himself wondering who it could possibly be.

Amami, ever the friendly guy, raised his hand with a smile. “Iruma-san. Good morning.”

Iruma looked up, realizing only then that he was there. Her posture changed immediately, as she put her hands on her hips with a scowl. “Hah? What the hell are you doing in my beautiful, beautiful lab, you goddamn zombie…” her voice trailed off as her eyes glanced to the side, seeing Ouma for the first time in days. Her eyebrows knitted. “Shitty shota? What the hell happened to your face?”

Ouma blinked as he raised his hand to his face, realizing just then that the bruise Momota had given him three days ago must not have healed yet. Well, that was to be expected, he supposed. They didn’t have ice to back then to treat the swelling. It must have been an ugly shade of purple and yellow, even now.

_“I deserved that.”_

_“Yes,” Momota spat. “You did.”_

Ouma shut his eyes closed, willing the memories away. Of course Amami would not mention the damn bruise, not when he was aware that Ouma wasn’t very keen on the mention of Momota right now. When the Supreme Leader opened his eyes again, he realized Amami was staring at him intently, his face morphed in an expression that was eerily familiar. _Ah,_ he realized. _Momota-chan used to look at me the same way._ It was a combination of confusion, concern and curiosity. Amami was trying to read him, trying to solve the puzzle that is Ouma Kokichi. But for some reason… the Supreme leader didn’t feel quite as daunted with that look when it came from him.

It was only when Amami looked away that he realized why. Yes, most people eventually turn their gazes away out of sheer politeness. Like Amami. Like Saihara. But Momota was different. He won’t stop, won’t give up, won’t turn his eyes away--- not until you give him what he wanted. When he set his eyes on something, he was a force to be reckoned with. Ouma supposed those little things were what made Momota different, what made him dazzling, and what ultimately made him terrifying.

Ouma shivered. He wondered if it was because of the fever that he suspected was coming in. He hoped he wouldn’t need to be confined in his bed for the next few days. That would really suck. He then realized he was staring into space, and silently cursed himself. _Focus. You can’t afford to be distracted right now._

Iruma was still in front of him, hands on her hips, eyebrow raised, waiting for an explanation. He took a deep breath. Time to put her in her place. “Hey, pig.”

“P-Pig?” Iruma said as she immediately recoiled to her more compliant demeanor. Ouma liked her better this way. Easier to boss around. Besides, she already kinda sucked at her attempts at hiding her vulnerability behind her monumental ego anyways. Well, Ouma supposed he’s not one to talk, considering how bad he was at hiding his own lately.

“Where are the _goods_?” He asked, pointing a finger at her, which was almost always guaranteed to make her move three times faster. “Come on. Don’t tell me your virgin ass is slacking off while I’m gone? Show me what you got, Iruma-chan!”

“E-Eeeek! Y-Yes, right away!” she said as she scrambled to one corner of her lab, moving over pieces of unfinished projects and fishing out the Bugvac, an electrohammer and a what seems to be the prototype of an electrobomb. She pulled out the blueprints and laid them across the table as well. Amami looked over with an impressed look in his eyes and whistled lowly. Iruma nervously played with a lock of her hair and made a small keening noise that was either a whimper or a moan. “T-This is what I’ve finished. Your designs are fucking incredible. The Bugvac is operational again, though I’m not really sure what you’re planning to do with something like this. As for the electrohammers, I tried to make it more portable so it would be easily carried by someone with average strength, but that was pretty tricky. The main battery cell was taking too much space, and in the end I had to risk taking it out altogether and creating a different energy storage route, but I’m afraid it affected the output efficiency a little badly.”

Ouma nodded easily, but Amami frowned, not quite understanding, as he surveyed the blueprints with a confused gaze. “Meaning?”

Iruma scowled. “Meaning I either make the electrohammers heavy and bulky as shit or make it so that their power die quickly! It’s one or the other, dumbass!” Amami blinked in the sudden change of tone, but the inventor huffed indignantly and continued. “Now, if _someone_ would just let me redesign this shit to suit more to my taste, I bet I can make this even better---“

“Iruma-chan, no, we are _not_ going to turn the electrohammer handles into a makeshift dildo.” Ouma snapped.

“B-But think about it! The mechanical energy and friction it would create---“

The Supreme Leader rolled his eyes as he examined the Bugvac and turned it on, nodding approvingly at the loud hum of the vacuum. He was already ignoring Iruma as he suddenly pulled on Amami’s hand with a wide grin. “Come, Amami-chan! We’re done here!”

“A-Already?” Iruma squeaked.

Ouma ignored her as he walked towards Amami, who was staring at him with a curious expression in his eyes. They stared at each other for a long while again, and the Supreme Leader wondered what must have been going through his mind. Ouma supposed out of all their classmates, Amami and Saihara were the two who are most difficult for him to figure out, but if he was going to work with Amami, that needed to change. He needed to understand Amami. And Amami, in turn, needed to understand _him._

Amami was too smart to let himself be used as a simple pawn. Unlike Iruma, or Gokuhara, or hell, even Momota --- he’s… different. Ouma had a feeling that Amami was almost _used_ to this, in a strange, almost unconscious way. Maybe he’d been in similarly dangerous situations before when he’s adventuring around the world? Is his history even real, or is it some backstory someone thought up for him? Can Ouma really ever be sure?

“W-Wait a goddamn minute! You’re leaving with the Bugvac?” Iruma suddenly asked, looking concerned. “I don’t want any fucker to think I’ve been doing shady business with you, shitty shota!”

 _Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing, though?_ Ouma almost wanted to ask, amused at her concern. Iruma’s sense of self-preservation was quite extraordinary, but in a place like a Killing Game, it was a trait that could easily backfire. Ouma wondered if it was something that would get her killed someday.

He hoped not.

Ouma grinned. “Nishishi! Don’t worry, Iruma-chan. I’m taking this out on a test drive! I won’t tell anyone you made this for me, I’ll just tell them I stole it or something. My lips are sealed, as I promised!”  That word again: promise. It tasted like poison in his mouth, the guilt eating at his insides… _A liar’s promise meant nothing. I warned him. He didn’t listen. It’s not my fault. I don’t have to apologize. I have nothing to apologize for…_

Lies, lies, lies, lies. He knew. He’s lying to himself. He’s been doing that a lot lately. He really should stop doing that, since there was nothing worse than lying to yourself. But ever since the love hotel incident, ever since the first day Momota laughed and choked on his breath as Ouma strangled him, ever since the day that he said “I’ll believe in you too”… Ouma’s head had been a fucking mess.

He sighed, heavily. _I’m such a piece of shit._

 

* * *

 

One word: Impressive.

When Amami walked inside Ouma’s room, as well as when he saw the blueprints and the tools--- he couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed. Ouma Kokichi was doing all of this behind the scenes, trying to solve the Killing Game, trying to help everyone escape--- to think that the rest of the group sees him as nothing more than an insufferable brat that was always up to no good, always there to put them against each other --- it was just so disconnected that it made his brain hurt. As they bid Iruma farewell, Amami once again carried the smaller boy on his back, feeling a little concerned by the fact that he could do it with little difficulty. Ouma _did_ just come out of a starvation motive, but was three days really enough to make him _this_ light? He heard that people often either gain or lose weight due to stress, so he supposed that’s not really surprising…

He could hear Ouma make deep breaths right beside his ear. Breaths that seem awfully measured, and entirely _too_ hot--- he’s pushing himself, even now. Amami hesitated as Ouma pointed animatedly in the direction of the casino, the strange contraption (Iruma called it the Bugvac) humming continuously in his hands, close to Amami’s chest.

Ouma seemed to notice his hesitation. “What’s the matter, Amami-chan? Come on, trust me, casino coins would _really_ be handy right now.”

Amami wondered if that was a lie. Ouma seemed to amuse himself by lying, at least the first time the adventurer had met him. But this was a different Ouma. This was the Ouma who’s carrying the burden of five dead classmates, the person that almost gave up the game himself. Amami felt as if the Supreme Leader he had met on the first day of the Killing Game has been weathered and beaten time and time again into this frail, sick boy that was currently struggling to breathe on his back.

“Amami-chan..?” Ouma’s voice was weak, trying to keep up the carefree tone it once had, to no avail. And then there was a small chuckling, almost self-depreciating in its cadence. “What, are you having second thoughts about working with me now? It’s too late, you know!”

“No.” Amami muttered. It must have been the older brother in him, the protective instinct to keep the young ones out of harm… Ouma was like a little kid, not unlike his younger sisters. “No, I’m definitely not having second thoughts. But I’m definitely not letting you go strain yourself any further. We’re going back to your room.”

This seemed to take Ouma by surprise. “W-What? Amami-chan---“

Amami was already walking towards the dorms.

“Hey! I said I wanna go to the casino!” Ouma yelled in defiance, wriggling his limbs around, but Amami was already an expert in handling stubborn kids. He managed to hold onto him just fine, so he wouldn’t fall. “ _Amami-chan_!” Ouma whined childishly.

“What’s the Bugvac for?” Amami asked, as he glanced down at the Bugvac, still turned on.

There was a pause, and then a giggle. “Nishishi! Wouldn’t you like to know~!”

“ _Ouma-kun._ ”

“It’s a tool for vacuuming bugs! You see, after the first class trial, Gonta --- he has good eyesight, you know--- thought he saw weird bugs flying around the school! When I put some thought into it, I realized it must have been some weird nanotech, and that it might have some connection to how Monokuma knows everything that’s been happening around the Ultimate Academy. I decided to test out my hypothesis and designed a tool that uses a vacuum and electromagnetic fields to suck these “bugs” out of the air and disable them as they pass through the filters! Sweet, huh?”

 _Genius._ Amami thought, as he trudged on towards the dorms. “So as long as we have that---“

“Yup! This is tried and tested, by the way. The first prototype broke down after I used it, but I managed to break a couple of rules without Monokuma noticing. I even broke my monopad, that was a long time ago.”

Amami blinked. “You… broke your monopad?”

“Yeah! I don’t need those stinkin’ monopads to investigate! Though it did give me a bit of a problem in the second trial, since I forgot to check the Monokuma File entirely. That was my bad.”

Amami nodded along as he continued to walk. For now, Ouma seemed to have forgotten about going to the casino. That was good. On the other hand, Amami also felt a feeling of hope blossom inside him, hope that felt so out of reach last night, when he first watched his motive video. They could do this. Ouma was well-prepared, just waiting for opportunities. Opportunities that Amami knew he could provide. They could end this nightmare, together, and escape with everyone. No more Ultimate Academy, no more Monokuma, no more Killing Game.

So why was he feeling so unsettled? Something is… not right.

It has always felt this way, ever since the moment he was revived. No, ever since the moment he first stepped in this Academy. Something has always felt _wrong,_ something inside himself, a feeling that kept surfacing in his consciousness, but always dissolves like smoke as soon as he tried to grasp it. It was almost as if… he didn’t want to get out. Almost as if he _belonged_ here. But that was crazy, right? Maybe he _was_ going crazy.

Whenever he closed his eyes, the memories flood in, all intense and overwhelming, none of them making any sort of sense. What was even more frustrating was: they were never complete. A part of him was convinced that maybe, just maybe, if he tried hard enough, he could hammer through the invisible barriers that locked away his memories. A part of him was scared of what he might uncover. Maybe he wasn’t trying to remember hard enough.

His footsteps were silent against the even ground. He was drifting off to the past again, something that happened a lot the first few days after he was revived, one that he eventually realized must have been some sort of side effect of his death. Whenever he thinks too much, or gets lost in his thoughts… there were voices. Voices that sound so far away, ringing in his head---

_“Can I even trust myself?”_

_“The first one to kill someone will get to graduate, no strings attached!”_

_“Look, Amami-kun! Shirogane-san painted my nails!”_

_“Are you sure, Amami-san? Yes, there is a time constraint, but I don’t think it would be wise to cut corners at this crucial point---“_

**DELETE.**

Amami blinked. _Huh?_

An eerie calm settled around him, as if he was suddenly in a sedative haze. What was he doing again? Ah, right… he was bringing Ouma to the dorms. Ouma was pushing himself. They needed to catch the ringleader. The Bugvac… will help.

Amami felt a little dizzy for a moment. Suddenly Ouma muttered. “Stop right here, Amami-chan.”

They were in the middle of the courtyard. Amami would have preferred not to let Ouma take any more detours, considering his health, but he was a little relieved to get a chance to catch his breath and regain his composure. Ouma slid down his back easily, looking around as if he was searching for something. Finally, his expression lit up, as he walked towards a slab of concrete that was partially hidden in the grass, pulling out a marker from inside his pants pocket.

Amami peered in and frowned. There were letters on it written seemingly at random, like an incomplete message. Ouma knelt down and started scribbling some more onto it, adding more letters that only succeeded in making the message even more nonsensical.

With that, the Supreme Leader seemed to be quite satisfied. He helped himself up Amami’s back once again, though this time he seemed to be more at peace, even sleepy as they trudged back to their destination.

Out of curiosity, Amami asked. “What was that message for?”

Ouma hummed. For a moment, he seemed as though he wasn’t going to reply, but finally, he muttered. “Just a back-up plan. Nothing to concern yourself with.”

Amami chuckled. “When you say it like that, it feels as though it’s something I _do_ need to be concerned with.”

“Nishishi. Mind your own business, Amami-chan.”

“Your business, as of this very moment, is also mine.”

Silence. Amami walked a few mores steps, before Ouma’s arms tightened around his shoulders. He buried his face in his hair. There was a smile in his voice, a shake in his grip, and Amami had no doubt that the sigh he just gave out wasn’t made in fatigue nor exasperation. It was… in relief.

“Thank you, Amami-chan.” Ouma murmured. “That’s reassuring.”

Amami should feel happy. He should feel great that Ouma was being cooperative, being agreeable. He should feel relieved that the Supreme Leader was with him on this, that they’ll be able to work together, hand in hand, in order to outsmart the ringleader, his killer--- but _no_ . Something must have been wrong with him. There was _always_ something wrong with him. Because Amami, try as he might, at this very moment, didn’t feel happiness at all.

He felt dread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always find it interesting that Ouma claimed he hasn't read the Monokuma File in the second trial. I couldn't really help but think he was being truthful there, since he seemed genuinely convinced that Ryoma was eaten alive until the moment Saihara told him otherwise. So "I broke my monopad to test the Bugvac hypothesis a long time ago" happened. XD
> 
> And ooooooHhh.... Amami got some problems, yeah!
> 
> *silently clacketing onwards to Chapter 4*


	4. "Been there, done that."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone is watching... or trying to, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m still here! Thank you for patiently waiting! <3
> 
> I’m so, so sorry for the delay of my update here. It’s just that: it’s so damn hard to write these two purple boys when they’re emotionally drained, you know? Not to mention, them being *both* confused about their feelings is confusing the shit out of *me*. I just didn’t want them to be all over the place, but the problem is: they *are* all over the place. See my dilemma? Oh, the hardships I endure for this ship. Don’t worry, despite my other *cough cough* projects, I am still very invested in this story, and I am determined to see it through the end! :D 
> 
> Also, I’m sorry if the Oumota is being put in the backseat lot of the time, but hey, we all know what we got into when we all started to ship this pairing. Slow fucking burns. But I promise: Soon. Haha.
> 
> Oh, this is also unbetaed because my internet sucks and my beta is sick. I love you Zay, get well soon! :D

The room was dim, only alight by the faint glow of the intricate machinery and the brightness of the monitors. The hum of the computers which to him once had such a soothing effect was now strangely ominous, no doubt because of the gravity of the situation ahead. The programmer sat down on his desk as he took a sip from his cup of coffee. It was already noon, he supposed, but since it was only really him who needed to work with the subjects, most of his coworkers were nowhere to be seen at the moment. Probably eating lunch. Probably reworking the script, after their most recent fuck-up. Probably setting up contracts for the next season. Who knows? The programmer couldn’t be any more uninterested. He just wanted this season to end and be on his merry way. Maybe bomb this entire place while he’s at it, and make it so that this cursed place will never be used ever again. If his boss would approve, he would do it without any shred of remorse.

Unfortunately, said boss wasn’t very capable of sending approval at the moment.

The programmer sighed as he set his cup down, fiddling with the keyboard, opening up the programs to watch the live video feed. As he rifled through the cameras, he frowned. _Huh?_ Two certain students were missing from the footage, and he couldn’t get feed from the courtyard. _That’s odd._ _What’s happening?_

Suddenly one of the computers started beeping. The programmer clicked his tongue as he looked over it. Flashing in bold red and black was an error notification. “Stupid Survivor. I _told_ him this won’t work.” He mumbled as he started patching the error up as best as he could. Unfortunately, he was very aware that this was only a temporary fix. He could try to patch this up again and again and again, but there was only so much he could do with a broken avatar. Now if _they_ just gave him time to recreate a new one out of scratch, he wouldn’t have to worry about this all the time---

Too late. The transfer student was already back inside, and if they forced him to change avatars halfway into the simulation process, it would do more harm than good to his psyche.

Not that the Amami Rantarou wasn’t in shambles already. One look and you could tell he was already broken from all the previous seasons he had endured, and yet for some reason he still decided to participate in the fifty-third Killing Game. For what purpose, the programmer couldn’t imagine. Amami made the him a little uneasy if he had to admit. Uneasy and… curious.

Amami still didn’t show up in the video feed. The last time the programmer had seen him, he was carrying Ouma Kokichi on his back, walking over to the Ultimate Inventor’s lab.

He wondered if he should be concerned about that.

 

* * *

 

 

The next thing Ouma knew he was being lowered onto the bed.

He didn’t even remember the trip from the courtyard back to the dorm. He supposed he must have passed out just like that on Amami’s back. From fatigue, exhaustion, or whatever--- it didn’t really matter. All that mattered to Ouma was that his body was making excuses _not_ to work, and that was pretty damn frustrating. Especially when he had a lot of things he still wanted to do. He wanted to get more casino coins, hoard those love keys that he might need in the future. He wanted to talk to Amami, exchange information, dig up on his notes on the first trial and get logical suspects on who else other than Akamatsu could have pulled off that killing blow and _how._ He wanted to walk around the school, explore the new areas that must have opened by now. He wanted to give Iruma’s electrohammers a test drive, maybe help her figure out her way into building that electrobomb. He wanted to----

“Ouma-kun, are you alright?”

Ouma blinked, slowly. He realized then that he was staring into space, blankly into the ceiling, as Amami ushered him to lay down and placed his hand on his forehead, a worried expression painted on his face. Ouma shivered slightly at the contact of his cold fingertips against his skin, suddenly aware of how cold the room was... his eyes felt hot, his breaths as well, and yet every muscle and bone in his body felt like it was being doused in ice cold water. He laughed, mirthlessly, as he pulled the sheets over to his chin. “Stupid fever.”

Amami placed his arms on his hips and sighed. “You need to rest for a bit. I’m sure you’d feel better after some medicine and some sleep.”

“Nishishi.” He giggled. “How can you know? Maybe I’m dying. Maybe the antidote didn’t work after all!”

“Please stop saying something so morbid so naturally.” Amami patiently replied, and then frowned, as if what he just said strike him as odd. Regardless, he continued. “And please, for the love of god, stop pushing yourself. You are _kind of_ more useful to me alive than dead.” To that he cracked a smile.

Ouma chuckled, but he closed his eyes, murmuring. “I’m anxious that Amami-chan will get tired of me soon, because I’m being a big fucking burden~” he chimed, in a sing-song voice. It was a lie, but even so, his own self-loathing was seeping through every word. His mouth felt dry. There were much better things he wanted to do other than laying on his bed. He opened his eyes again and whined. “Amami-chan, can’t you just let me go out? Come _on._ ”

“Nope.” Amami popped the ‘p’, sounding a little amused. The way he looked at him reminded Ouma of the older members of DICE… as if he was a stubborn younger brother that needed some scolding.

Ouma sighed in defeat. Since he couldn’t do anything about this, and since Amami seemed to be determined to set his foot down and make sure he rested, he decided to do the next best thing: talk. Ask questions. Seek confirmations. He needed answers _now._ All the plans he’s been making in his head were banking in this one thing, and he wanted to at least make sure that he’s on the right track.

“Amami-chan… are you really sure? That Akamatsu-chan didn’t kill you, I mean.”

Amami blinked at the sudden question, and pursed his lips. Ouma felt a bit of anxiety creep up to him. _Please tell me you’re certain._ Finally, Amami replied. “Yes.”

Ouma could breathe again. He leaned in with interest, pressing. “ _How_?”

Amami hesitated as he held his head, right where the he was hit, pain flashing through his expression. As if he was trying to remember the very moment he was killed. “I… I did a lot of thinking after I was revived. Sometimes, memories just pop up and fade, leaving me disoriented…” he trailed off. “It’s true I don’t remember much of the incident itself but I’m certain. At that time… I remember seeing the shotput ball fall. After that, everything’s too jumbled to make sense. But that’s enough, isn’t it? It’s already… strange.”

Ouma’s eyes narrowed, pondering. _Strange, indeed._ Amami’s response was simple, but the implications were grave. Ouma clearly remembered his corpse lying on the library floor, his nightmares never letting him forget every grim detail. He was pretty sure Amami was hit on the _back of his head_ , and if it really was Akamatsu’s shot that killed him…

“… you shouldn’t have seen it coming.” Ouma whispered.

Amami nodded.

The Supreme Leader started giggling uncontrollably. “If the ringleader really was the one who messed with your memories, they fucked up.” He muttered with glee, before sighing. “Well, it’s thanks to that mistake that we’re here right now, with the best lead we got since we got here.”

Amami stared at the Bugvac now placed on the bedside table, still humming, working. “You’re amazing to have made this conversation possible in the first place.”

“Iruma-chan’s the one who’s amazing.” Ouma shrugged modestly, but he knew he looked pretty damn pleased with himself, maybe even a little smug. It’s not every day that people recognized his efforts. “I’m surprised it even works, honestly. Since logic doesn’t seem to have any meaning in this place. I mean, look at _you._ You should be dead. And the bears kept saying something about the End Wall being the end of this world, too. Almost as if…” he trailed off, a realization hitting him hard. He frowned. “No, that’s… stupid.” _Or was it?_

Amami raised an eyebrow. “What is?”

Ouma shook his head. “N-Never mind.” He replied, as he snuggled closer against his blankets. He decided to put that thought at the back of his head for now. Something he’ll think more about later, when he felt better. Hope blossomed in his chest as his gaze fell on the whiteboard in the corner, seeing all of his classmates dead and alive--- could he still save them all? _Stop it._ He thought, metaphorically crushing his _stupid feelings_ underneath his foot. _Focus on the present. Focus on the people who are still alive._

Ouma sighed. “I’ll sleep for now. But when I wake up, I still have to… check the new areas---“

“With all due respect, Ouma-kun, I think it would be better for you to be on bed rest for the next two days, at least for now.”

Ouma’s eyes widened, indignantly. He growled. _“What?”_

Amami didn’t even look fazed at this reaction. He was in negotiation mode. “Bed rest. Two days.”

Ouma shook his head, determined. “One.”

Amami gave him a look. Guarded, as if he didn’t want to push too hard. But concerned nonetheless. “Ouma-kun---“

“Look, Amami-chan. I’ve been through worse than a stupid fever. I _can_ handle myself. I’m just… drained today. I’m sure by tomorrow, I’ll be fine.” Ouma insisted.

Amami stared at him for a long moment. Ouma stared back. Finally, the adventurer sighed in defeat.

“Okay, you win. I’m just trying to make sure you don’t kill yourself.”

Ouma’s lips twitched. What a funny choice of words. “Momota was already on that duty. Been there, done that.”

Amami’s lips made a ghost of a smile, as if he wanted to chuckle, but thought it was inappropriate. Instead, he sat on the edge of the bed as he pushed some strands of Ouma’s hair away from his eyes. Some strands stuck to his skin… he hadn’t realized he’s been sweating. Ouma shivered. Amami suddenly looked thoughtful. Ouma wondered what must have been on his mind, as he seemed deeply troubled about it. Finally, he spoke.

“Ouma-kun…” Amami started. “I know it’s not my place to pry, but humor me. What exactly is your relationship with Momota-kun?”

Ouma’s smile faltered for a second, before he made an devious smirk. “Well, obviously, he’s my super secret underling that I planted in order to give hope to my fellow classmates! I’m the ringleader, see, and I thought it would be awfully boring if we everyone ended up cowering like the bunch of cowards they are---“

Amami sighed heavily as if he expected this. This... obvious ploy to averse from the topic. Regardless, he continued on. “We both know that’s a lie, Ouma-kun.”

Ouma pulled the blankets further up, so only his eyes were showing. Lilac irises met with Amami’s green gaze, as he muttered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Amami-chan.”

Amami was silent for a moment, before he nodded in understanding. What exactly he understood, Ouma wasn’t sure. But Amami looked as if some things finally made sense to him, as he turned his head to stare at the whiteboard in the corner of the room, contemplative. “So, let me change the question.”

Ouma waited.

“Do you like Momota-kun?”

Ouma’s eyes widened as he felt himself flush, a blush blossoming on his cheeks, tinting it pink. He was relieved that Amami chose this time to not look his way--- scratch that, maybe this was the exact reason Amami looked away, just to give Ouma a small semblance of control in this already out of control conversation. In his short moment of being acquainted with Amami, Ouma could tell that it was part of his personality, to be considerate in these small ways.

He was uneasy again. Distraught, uncomfortable. For reasons unknown, the adventurer seemed to find it important for him to confront these feelings, and a part of him agreed--- he couldn’t avoid Momota forever. If things stayed the way they currently are, he would _never_ be able to “perform” in front of the group in his one hundred percent. There would always be that coward inside of him wanting to hide from Momota’s gaze. It was as funny as it was pathetic--- maybe he should ask Saihara where that hat went, because at this rate, he was going to need it soon.

Ouma covered his face with a blanket. Does he like Momota? A part of him was yelling “no, not until hell freezes over.” A part of him _was_ frozen, horrified at the prospect of him _liking_ Momota, because didn’t Momota already said that he cared about him? Does Momota care about him _that_ way? Or was he another sidekick that the astronaut felt like he needed to look after? He gnawed at his lip. Any other day he would have shut Amami down, told him never to pry into his personal business again, but it was probably the fever that made him feel a little more open, a little more vulnerable. Yes, it must have been the fever. Because if he feeling perfectly well, he knew there was no way in hell he’d give an actual response. Regardless, he felt his lips part, voice silent, muffled against the sheets…

“…Maybe.” He answered.

For a long moment, Amami didn’t move, nor respond. Ouma peeked from underneath the blanket and saw him making a fond smile. “I see. It was obvious, anyway.”

Ouma frowned. “How was it obvious?”

Amami cocked an eyebrow as if Ouma was asking a dumb question. “Well, with the way you were kissing him yesterday---“

Ouma’s eyes widened, caught off guard, frowning in confusion as panic flooded his veins. “What?”

Amami blinked in surprise. He placed his hand behind his head in an apologetic manner, replying hesitantly. “Was I… not supposed to say that?”

Ouma sat up, making himself dizzy, but that was the least of his concerns right now. His memories of yesterday were hazy at best, but he was almost tempted to shake Amami’s shoulders as he felt more heat creep up his neck. “I _what?_ ”

Amami hesitated, but he almost looked amused. “You don’t remember?”

“No!”

Ouma looked away and took a deep breath. When did this _alleged_ kiss happen? Amami said he was there when Momota was trying to save him, but Ouma was already delirious from the pain and didn’t even know half of the things that was happening around him. The only time he could image kissing Momota was when---

 _Oh god._ He remembered feeling the brush against his lips, warm and soft, the antidote flowing down his throat, him clinging desperately for more of it, pulling the source closer… pulling _Momota_ closer---

He took a shaky breath to regain his composure. He didn’t like the thought that Amami was seeing him right now, looking all flustered, but he couldn’t really help it. He hoped Amami would decide to credit the flush to the fever and not the fact that he was so _fucking_ embarrassed just thinking about the kiss--- God, he remembered now. He remembered it very clearly. Momota had kissed him, and he kissed him back. It was _good._ It was _heaven._ Back then, Ouma was pretty sure he was driven by sheer survival instinct alone but thinking about it now, he couldn’t help but feel slightly pissed at himself for how much he _loved_ the thought that he had kissed Momota Kaito, and how much he wanted to do it again.

And again. And again.

He was blushing to the roots of his hair and he knew it. Amami simply looked thoroughly amused. Finally, Ouma sighed in defeat as he pointed his finger at the door. “Amami-chan. Can you give me a moment? Go put my dishes back in the kitchen or get some medicine or---- whatever. I don’t care. Just leave me alone.” Amami nodded easily. Ouma was so glad that he’s so easy to order around. He’s so agreeable--- unlike Momota. Momota’s such a fucking pain in the ass. Momota… who probably hates him now. It’s all Ouma’s fault. He felt like wanting to cry. He tried his damnest to keep these thoughts at the back of his mind, but now they’re spilling out again. _Fuck--- stop thinking about him!_

Amami he lifted the tray of dirty dishes from Ouma’s breakfast and shrugged. “Okay. I’ll get something for lunch. Would you like anything in particular?”  

“No.” Ouma replied as he laid back down, pulling the blankets over him, trying to shut the world out again. “I don’t care. I’m going to sleep.”

There was a pause and then a thoughtful hum. A small nervous chuckle. “Shall I get one ‘Momota-kun’ to go?” Amami asked, teasing him.

Ouma poked his head out of the blankets and _glared_ at him. “Are you trying to be funny? Because you suck.”

“Guess that’s why I’m not the Ultimate Comedian.” Amami smiled apologetically. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

 

* * *

 

The new areas in the newly opened floor were all interesting, Saihara supposed. Shirogane, for one, was _in love_ with her lab. She cheerfully served them drinks and shared a few stories of her time as a cosplayer before being scouted as an Ultimate Student, even tried to get them to cosplay with her. Her resilience was so strong that it was bordering on terrifying. Saihara literally had to stop Harukawa from threatening her with a knife when the cosplayer remarked that the assassin would look _lovely_ in a green sailor uniform and a katana. They all ran away from the rabid otaku before she could perform her quick changing act and make them lose their dignity forever.

They saw a strange door in the new floor that looked quite ominous, with red paint splattered all over it and weapon-like silhouettes. It honestly made Saihara’s detective mind click, wondering if it was a research lab, and if it was, to whom it could possibly be. Was there anyone else besides Harukawa who had a deadly talent? The only possibility he could think was that it might be Amami’s, especially since they didn’t know his talent yet, even now.

Unfortunately, before they could inspect further, they were shooed away by Monokuma.  The bear kept muttering things like “not ready yet” and “unplanned renovations”, complaining all the way about how there’s still so many students walking about and stating that any student who so much as touches the doorknob without his permission would be blown up. “Believe me, I’d take any excuse to kill one of you motherfuckers. It’s been three trials already, and this place is still too fucking crowded!” the bear had exclaimed.

Saihara sighed, while Harukawa simply frowned disapprovingly. They decided to leave the area unchecked for now, since it’s not like they had much of a choice in the matter. Momota glared at the bear for a moment too long before finally relenting, saying there was nothing they could do about it anyway.

It didn’t take them long to run into another door. As soon as Saihara saw it, he felt a bit of dread settle in his gut. The door itself was quite plain, just normal wood, but it was bordered with a pinstripe design similar to his uniform and a majestic arch painted in gold. The eye and magnifying glass design above it confirmed his suspicions. This was the Ultimate Detective’s lab, isn’t it? It couldn’t have been anything else.

_A research lab made just for me…_

Saihara didn’t know what he was expecting when opened the door. Truth be told, he didn’t even _like_ detective work so nothing inside this lab could really excite him, he supposed. These days he was starting to warm up on the profession though, but it was simply because of the fact that his abilities helped him save his friends multiple times. Even so, he wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic about it as Akamatsu was with her piano, or Gonta with his bugs, or Tsumugi with her cosplay costumes and studio sets. The thought made him a little sad.

The room was pretty small. It reminded Saihara of his uncle’s office back home, though his uncle’s office was almost always buried in stacks and stacks of unfinished paperwork. One thing that surprised Saihara though was how cozy the place is. The fire in the hearth crackled softly. The walls were plastered with an elegant navy blue wallpaper. The design of the fireplace itself was quite breathtaking, a pendulum swinging with a faint clicking sound, enormous gears and axles… it reminded him of clockwork, like something you’ll see if you open up an old-fashioned pocket watch. Inside there were also two couches, a rocking chair and a table full of chemicals and laboratory apparatuses. But what really caught his eye were the two shelves placed on either side of the fireplace, one lined with case files, the other filled with bottles…

Beside him, Momota scowled. The astronaut glared at the shelf to their right as if the bottles themselves had done him a personal offense. Saihara frowned.

“Is the something the matter, Momota-kun?” he asked, but he was barely able to get Momota’s attention. The astronaut walked over to the shelf and opened the glass panel, checking the bottles out, reading their labels, it seemed. Saihara gave Harukawa a confused look, to which the assassin replied with a noncommittal shrug. She was already walking over to inspect the rest of the room.

Saihara awkwardly approached Momota, who was mumbling under his breath. Something about Monokuma and boxes.

“Momota-kun…?” he uneasily asked, finally catching his attention. Lavender eyes blinked in surprise and glanced at him, before the astronaut cleared his throat and placed the bottle he was holding back on the shelf.

“Uh… Hey, Shuuichi.” He said as he glanced back at the bottles again, shuffling uneasily, looking disturbed. “These are all dangerous. Shouldn’t we get rid of them?”

Saihara blinked in surprise. “Dangerous? What do you mean?” the detective asked, glancing at the shelf once again. But then it hit him, realizing what the astronaut said made a strange sort of sense. There was absolutely no way there could be normal medicine in the Ultimate Detective’s lab. There was a fine line between a detective and a criminal after all, and he’s certain that Monokuma wanted him to consider doing something worthy of the latter.

Their conversation captured Harukawa’s attention. She walked over and examined the shelf. Then she clicked her tongue and bit her thumbnail. “He’s right. These looks like… poison.” Her eyes scanned the shelf, thoughtfully reading the labels… “Yeah, I know what some of these are. They’re definitely poison. I suppose they _are_ dangerous to be left here out in the open, but even if we get rid of them, Monokuma would just replace them…”

Momota was still glaring. “So what? We leave them here? Where people can just fucking use them whenever they please?”

“It’s not like we could do anything. Whatever we do will only be a temporary solution. So it’s useless.” Harukawa snapped, sounding a little irritated.

That seemed to silence the astronaut. He bit his lip, hard. “I don’t like this." He muttered.

“Maybe there are locks in the warehouse?” Saihara suggested. Harukawa shook her head.

“No, there aren’t. I checked. If there were, I wouldn’t have to hang out in my lab all day back when I was trying to hide my talent.”

Saihara placed his hand on his mouth, thinking, trying to come up with a solution, realizing there was none. Harukawa was right, even if they try to dispose of these poison, Monokuma would just have to replace them. It has become apparent in their stay in this school that Monokuma had no limits when it comes to budget--- considering all the research labs and their advanced technology as well as their food supply--- Saihara would be willing to assume that Monokuma also had a monumental stash of poison hidden somewhere, a stash that would take them _forever_ to exhaust.

Momota grunted. It seems he came to the same conclusion as he sighed and rubbed the back of his head. “Fine.” He muttered with gritted teeth. “Let’s just… leave it be _for now._ ”

He said those last two words with such bitterness and determination that Saihara idly wondered what was going on in his mind. He sounded as if he was planning to do something about it himself. The detective frowned. “Momota-kun…” he trailed off, hesitating. “Are you---“

“Hey, Shuuichi, what are those?” Momota cut him off as he walked over to the other shelf, taking on of the case files and flipping through it. It might have been Saihara’s imagination, but did he just try to avoid the subject? Sighing and deciding not to press about the bottles anymore, he followed him to the other side of the room, inspecting the case files, picking a few at random. Each file contained five or six murders, illustrated with pictures, accentuating every single gruesome detail. Saihara swallowed hard. He started counting--- fifty-two case files in all. _Huh. Fifty-two… what a random number._

“… it’s a file containing all the tricks used for murders.” Harukawa muttered, looking over Momota’s shoulder.

Saihara nodded. “It appears so.”

She narrowed her eyes at the current case Momota was reading, placing a finger on her chin. “Did this incident really happen?”

Good question. Saihara shuffled uneasily. “I can’t be sure, but there are pictures of the scene. All of these cases seem feasible.” he replied. Momota sighed heavily as he placed the case file he was reading back into the shelf.

“Sick bastards…” he whispered. “If these are feasible, this can make a good guideline for anyone who wanted to commit a murder, right?” He balled his fists and shut his eyes, as if the mere thought was painful. “I… don’t wanna believe anyone else here would do that but… we didn’t really know Shinguuji until he murdered Angie, did we? Maybe if we doubted people more, everyone who died… Maybe they’d still be alive.”

Harukawa sighed. She walked over so she was facing the astronaut, and then did the last thing Saihara would have expected from her--- she raised her hand and slapped Momota on the cheek, hard.

The astronaut blinked, his cheek stinging red as he held it and gaped at her. “H-Harumaki! What was that for?!”

“For not acting like yourself. It’s starting to piss me off.” Harukawa replied, her intense red eyes flashing murderously, her stance poised. “Ever since you got out of that love hotel, you’ve been acting strange. Did that _asshole_ put weird ideas in your head? Don’t fucking listen to him.” she insisted. Momota seemed to get a little taken aback with that, but he didn’t respond. “Pull yourself together. Act like the idiot you are, because we need that idiot to pull the group together. Otherwise we’ll fall apart.” She gripped Momota’s jacket by the collar, bunching it into a fist. “We need a leader, Momota, and like it or not, it’s _you_. A leader can’t afford to lose heart. Now tell me, what the hell did that asshole tell you?”

Momota hesitated, looking confused. “Kokichi? No, no… he didn’t say anything.”

Harukawa narrowed her eyes. Saihara’s thoughts wandered.

“Momota-kun… since when do you call Ouma-kun by his name?”

Momota blanched. He immediately looked like a deer caught in headlights, as he struggled to reply. Saihara put a finger under his chin as he tilted his head a little bit, his detective mind overcoming his timid self, as he stared at this mystery that has been plaguing him since Momota came back, a mystery he _so_ wanted to crack. “What happened inside the love hotel?”

Momota looked even more distressed. He raised his hand as if to run his fingers through his hair, seemingly out of habit, but then scowled when he realized that was only going to mess his hairdo. He opened his mouth… and hesitated. He looked like he wanted to say something, but thought better of it. His purple eyes flashed in irritation. “You know what? It’s not fucking important.”

“I beg to differ.” Harukawa insisted. Whatever frustration she had been keeping to herself seemed to be flooding out now. “Whatever this is, it’s obviously affecting you. You’re important. Aren’t we your friends, or was that just a lie? Do you wanna die?”

“H-Harukawa-san, I don’t think that’s the right way to ask…” Saihara prompted. Harukawa gave him an icy glare.

“No, _you_ shut up, Saihara. It’s because you kept pulling back and accepting his ridiculous “I’m fine”s that he kept avoiding the subject. Aren’t you worried too?”

“Well… yes, I actually am… very worried.” Saihara stammered. Momota sighed heavily.

“Look.” The astronaut started. “I’m fine--- ow!“ Harukawa kicked him in the shin. “Okay, fine! Fine, I’ll talk. Koki--- _Ouma._ ” Saihara didn’t miss that slip. “Ouma and I… we… sort of got into a fight.”

Saihara placed his hand over his mouth. The astronaut looked a little uncomfortable, even genuinely sad, but when did the Ultimate Astronaut and the Ultimate Supreme Leader _not_ get into a fight? They had pissed off each other countless times, but never did Momota react this way before. Was the astronaut lying? It didn’t seem like it. Besides, lying to them, his sidekicks, was out of his character. So what’s so different about this “fight” that made Momota so withdrawn, stressed and dare Saihara say it--- depressed?

“You see, I kinda tried to get him on our side.” Momota continued as he scratched the back of his head. He couldn’t meet Harukawa’s eyes. “I mean, sure, he’s a handful, but he’s _definitely_ not a bad person. I want to believe in him, too! And I know him enough now… he’s a good guy, deep inside!” He said that last part indignantly, as if he was willing to deck anyone who might be planning to suggest otherwise. Harukawa looked like she was about to argue, but whatever she was planning to say was long forgotten when Momota’s spirits suddenly fell. “But… well, you know. It didn’t work out.” _Didn’t work out._ Those words were uttered with a lot of weight. The astronaut sighed. “I’m… uhh… just a little bummed about that. I’m sorry for making you guys worry. Give me time, I’ll get over it. I promise.”

Harukawa’s eyes softened. “You should really give up on that guy, you know. He’s only going to make you feel bad, spin his lies yet again. What happened to him anyway? I haven’t seen him yet, since yesterday. He must be up to no good by now.”

“He’s with Amami.” Momota muttered bitterly. To bitterly. There was an edge to his tone too, a certain jealousy. Saihara’s eyes widened, a horrible possibility dawning on him. “I saw them going to Ultimate Inventor’s lab earlier.”

The detective couldn’t stop himself. His mind was racing. So he asked. “Was that why you didn’t want to go there to check the podium there earlier?”

Momota’s eyes widened. “W-What are you talking about? Of fucking course _not_ ! I’m just… a little worried about Iruma, you know! I still…” he trailed off as realization dawned on his face. “I still need to properly apologize to her. _Shit._ ”

Harukawa frowned, not quite understanding. “Why? What happened with Iruma?”

Momota filled her in. About his earlier outburst and sudden exit. “She’s talking shit about stuff, I couldn’t help it.” Momota had reasoned. _No._ Saihara thought. She was _not_ talking shit about _stuff,_ she was talking shit about _Ouma._

Things just started clicking together, like a big domino effect. Momota’s outburst. Momota being slightly withdrawn. Momota quoting the Supreme Leader’s words. Momota wanting to defend him from Harukawa’s hatred. Momota calling Ouma by his name. Momota’s bitterness about Ouma spending time with Amami.

 _“It’s easy to hate a person you didn’t know well. So… just cut each other some slack_.”

 _“And I know him enough now… he’s a good guy, deep inside!”_  

_“It didn’t work out.”_

It was always about Ouma. Why didn’t Saihara realize this sooner?

Was Momota… heartsick? No, that’s didn’t make sense. There had to be some other explanation.

…Right?

Harukawa nodded thoughtfully as she fiddled with one of her twin tails. “We’re done here, aren’t we? Let’s leave already. Iruma should still be in her lab around this time.”

“Y-Yeah.” Momota replied. Saihara caught him giving the bottles of poison one last look, before the three of them headed for the door. Harukawa was leading in front, she seemed to be in a hurry to get this over with. Momota falled back a little, very unlike him. Saihara kept his pace with him, still thinking about where his deductions took him. No, he’s going to take it with a grain of salt. It’s not the first time he doubted his own deductions anyway. Time to crack this case. He cleared his throat.

“Momota-kun, may I ask a question?” he started. Momota grinned half-heartedly.

“Of course you can! Why do you even need to ask?”

Determination gripped Saihara, a feeling similar to when he’s solving murders on a class trial, only now it was the mystery of his best friend’s (potentially) broken heart. He hesitated. “How do you feel about Ouma-kun?” he started. “I mean, I was just asking since… you know, you spent quite a lot of time with him, and we don’t really know him well enough…”

Momota frowned. His pressed his fists together and made a thoughtful expression. “Well, he’s not bad, you know. He’s just…” he trailed off and grunted. “I don’t fucking know. He makes my head hurt. So fucking stubborn.”

Classic Momota response. Saihara pressed. “Did he ever prank you in the love hotel? Tease you? You know… the usual Ouma stuff?”

Momota huffed indignantly. “All the fucking time! He even kis---“ he made a strangled noise. “--- pecked at my nose you know! Right before he…” his expression faltered.

Saihara frowned. “Right before he…?”

Momota grunted. He’s distressed again. And royally pissed off. His hand clenched at his side. “Never mind.”

There it was. The sore spot. Something happened. Something Ouma did.

Saihara wasn’t about to let this mystery elude him. He’ll be damned if he doesn’t find out. The thought made him a little apprehensive and strangely excited, eager to help Momota somehow, the same way the astronaut helped him time and time again. If Momota was too stubborn to tell them what’s bothering him, he’ll just have to utilize his own talent. It was the least he could do.

It was then that he realized with a small bit of satisfaction. Maybe he liked detective work, after all.

 

* * *

 

 

The rest of the day passed by in a blur.

After apologizing to Iruma (the inventor looked both flustered and smug as he told him how sorry he was for acting like a dick) and making Kiibo’s laboratory lift up through the ground (how is that even possible anyway? Some crazy technology… geez.), Momota was already tired. Physically tired. He had to catch himself a few times from coughing, anxious that if he coughed too hard he’ll spew out blood again, something he would prefer not to do when his sidekicks were around. He was already doing a terrible job of being their leader, they didn’t need to know that he’s sick, too. By the time they were done, it must have been already around two in the afternoon, tendrils of yellow-orange slowly staining the blue sky.

The three of them decided to eat a late lunch together. Momota noted with a bit of curiosity that Amami was there in the kitchen, humming to himself as he placed the dirty dishes he was holding to the dishwasher. He wanted to ask about Ouma’s condition, but he supposed it wasn’t wise to open the subject up right now, not when Saihara kept glancing at him in the corner of his eye and Harukawa still insisting to leave the little shit alone (as if Momota could ever do that… he’s way too deep into whatever this shit is to back out now). Amami simply greeted them warmly (was it Momota’s imagination, or was his green eyes sparkling knowingly, as if he knows something they don’t?), before leaving with another meal. Momota wondered if it was for Ouma. He had a nagging feeling that it was.

As soon as they were done eating, Momota excused himself, wanting to go back to the dorms and have a really nice, really long nap. All the physical strain of walking around and exploring such an enormous school was already getting to him. He just wanted some sleep, but then he remembered his personal plans for the evening and sighed. _Well, I guess it can’t be helped. I need to make a detour._

Instead of exiting the school building, he decided to continue walking through the corridors, until he arrived in front of the familiar blue door of the school warehouse. He opened the door, peering inside. The area seemed to be empty. _Good_.

As soon as he closed the door behind him, a shudder ran through his body. He doubled over and coughed hard, crimson spilling through his fingers, more blood than last night. _Shit._ He leaned on the door and laughed bitterly to himself.

_Better get painkillers while I’m at it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Amami accidentally quoted Hajime’s line in Super Danganronpa 2. The green sailor uniform and katana was a Shakugan no Shana reference. My childhood. Lol XD
> 
> You may be asking: rev wtf is that first scene? Programmer? Error notifs? Broken avatar? What the fuck? All I gotta say is: take it as you will. I’ll begin to unfold the details bit by bit… and you guys might want to keep a closer look on Amami. Because I think his history outside the Killing Game would have more impact on this story than I initially imagined. 
> 
> (I think I speak too much in these notes, I hope I'm not being annoying ><)


	5. “I liked it better when you called me Kokichi.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amami plays matchmaker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Rant about unsupportive parents and money removed because of some stuff please dont mind and move along~]
> 
> I'm planning to post this chapter on Friday but this got away with minor editing thanks to my backup beta, Ran! And I love you guys.

At first the bears had been quite amusing, but now they’re already slightly annoying.

Amami was just on his way to the warehouse to get some medicine for fever when the two Monokubs ambushed him and started their… skit. It was the only word the adventurer could think of to describe their statements, dialogue that felt so unnervingly scripted, it sounded grating to his ears. An incest subplot was now being slowly introduced, which made Amami frown in disapproval. _What was the scriptwriter smoking when they wrote this_ ? _Tasteless jokes to cater to a tasteless audience._ His thoughts whispered aggressively, making his head hurt terribly, as if another shot put ball was being nailed onto his skull.

Scriptwriter? Audience? Where did those thoughts came from? He felt dizzy again. And then… blank.

The Monokubs were still talking. He was barely listening. Something about having to wait until his lab was renovated.

But why would it need to be “renovated” in the first place? That’s really strange. Just another mystery to ponder.

Finally, the monokubs bid their farewell, ending their conversation with their usual catchphrase. It was only then that Amami realized his arms already felt sore from holding the tray for far too long. He sighed. He still needed to get Ouma some medicine. Not finding any available surface to put the tray down, he decided to suck it up as he made his way to the warehouse.

Thankfully, it was a short trip. He easily opened the familiar blue door, expecting it to be empty. No one ever hangs out in the warehouse these days, and if they did, that would be mighty suspicious. After all, a lot of items that could be easily used for murder are lying around here, just waiting to be discovered. The little metal ball that had once ended his life was only one grim example. He supposed if he was going to run into someone here, it might be Iruma, looking for supplies to use in her inventions or whatnot. He was certainly _not_ expecting to run into Momota… again.

It was almost like fate, he thought amusedly. He remembered Ouma laying inside his room, curled up in his bed. He remembered his own passing joke: _Should I get one Momota-kun to go?_

To someone like Amami, who at least had a bit of an idea of what happened between the two, it was crystal clear. The two boys obviously cared for each other, maybe even in ways surpassing the usual friendship. It was fascinating to see such kind of attachment grow in this kind of environment, and for some reason it made Amami’s heart ache… _Those two really need to talk._ He realized with a bit of wistful sadness. _Keeping this up would only make them grow apart._ _Should_ he encourage them to talk? Maybe… but who was he to play matchmaker? He couldn’t even figure out his own love life. _If I talked to Hanae, maybe she’d still be alive---_

 **DELETE.** What was he thinking again? He sighed heavily. He was starting to get used to these lapses in memory, and that thought was depressing.

Swallowing his uneasiness, he placed his tray down by the gym equipment. He tried his best not to stare at the shot put balls, they still make his head throb painfully. He walked closer to Momota, who seemed to be too focused on what he’s doing to notice him approaching, at least until he spoke. “Momota-kun, I didn’t expect you’d be here.”

Momota _jumped---_ he literally did. He was _that_ startled, as if he was caught something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. He glanced back at Amami and attempted a casual smile. Amami thought it looked a little strained… but maybe that was just his imagination. “Oh. Hey, Amami. What’s up?”

Amami shrugged. “Just getting medicine for Ouma-kun.” He said, as his eyes trailed off to the shelf Momota was rummaging. He realized at that moment that it was the medicine cabinet. _Huh. What a coincidence._ Then he realized Momota was taking some… painkillers? What would he need that for? In his jacket pocket, something poked out. A piece of black plastic, like a garbage bag… Amami’s expression darkened so fast he could see Momota react to it with a gulp. He smiled, but it was cold and unfeeling. “Momota-kun… may I ask what you need those are for?”

Momota hesitated. “I just… I’ve been feeling under the weather lately. I mean--- I’m sure it’s not bad! Just… you know, just in case.”

Amami cocked an eyebrow. That hardly made any sense, though the plastic bag was the one giving Amami a bad feeling. He frowned. “You’re not planning a murder, are you? Because if you are, tell me, and we’re going to have a _long_ talk.” It was a threat. Momota’s eyes widened at the accusation, but he didn’t seem guilty, no. More like… he was _shocked_ that Amami would entertain such a thought.

“I would never! Dude, how can you even kill with painkillers?”

Amami hesitated as he considered it. “I don’t know… overdose?”

“I don’t know two shits about cooking, I won’t be able to slip someone anything.” Momota said indignantly.

Fair point. Amami crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Fine. Then think about the plastic bag on your pocket. Suffocation.”

Momota pulled out the plastic from his pocket and stared at it incredulously, as if he never considered that. He shivered. “God, you’re almost as bad as Ouma. I can never look at these harmless everyday supplies the same way again.” He said as he put the plastic bag back on the shelf. But now he looked troubled, as he started looking all over the place again. “I still need some kind of bag. Something breathable if that’ll make you feel better?”

Amami considered that. Yeah, something breathable should be fine. Finding it a little awkward to just stand there, he helped the astronaut look all over the shelves for something else. Though he still couldn’t help but wonder why he’d need a bag in the first place, it seems like such a strange item to require. He was about to ask when he found it: a tote bag with a cute rabbit mascot decal on the side… Why does this look so familiar? He held it up for Momota to see. “Is this big enough?”

Momota looked over as he scratched the back of his head. “Eh, kinda girly, but that would do.” He replied with a small grin, as he pressed his fists together excitedly. “Thanks, Amami!”

“What do you need this for anyway?”

Momota scratched the back of his neck. “Uhh… I just needed to move some stuff. My room is a mess and… you know.”

Amami cocked an eyebrow. He was pretty sure Momota was lying. But he couldn’t see any harm in giving him the bag, so he tossed it over anyway. Momota mumbled a small (and awkward) “Thanks, man.” before flitting his eyes to the entrance, as if he wanted to bolt off. But for some reason something was stopping him. Amami let his eyes wander to the medicine cabinet again and picked up some stuff for Ouma’s fever… _yep, this will do._ He didn’t have any medical expertise, but he looked after his sisters enough to know how to take care of the sick. The thought brought the image on his motive video unbidden in his mind--- **“** **_Hurry up, onii-chan! You have eleven left!”_ ** _\---- No,_ he refused to think about it.

 _It's not real._ He chanted to himself. Like a mantra. He needed it to keep himself intact. If he let these thoughts plague him, he’d just be falling into a death trap. _It’s not real. It’s not real. They’re fine. They’re going to be fine._

He realized just then that Momota was shuffling uneasily next to him. His mind immediately jumped at the chance to distract himself. He made a small smile. “Anything you need, Momota-kun?”

Momota’s eyes glanced at the medicine in Amami’s hands, and he licked his lips, as if gathering the courage to speak. Finally, he asked. “How is Ouma doing?”

“Great.” He replied easily, but he didn’t like the way his voice choked up a little. His mind kept flitting back at his motive video--- _Focus._ “I mean, he has a fever and he still seems unable to stand up well, so he needed some support. I decided to take care of him for now because…” he trailed off, realizing this small sad fact. “Nobody else seemed to care enough to stop by all day, you know?”

Momota winced. Amami realized that must have sounded a little sarcastic. He didn’t mean at all to offend or belittle Momota with that statement, but as Momota tensed his jaw he realized that must have had quite an effect.

“I… saw you enter his room.” Momota choked out as he seemed to find the floor very interesting. “I didn’t want to disturb you. And I’m not even sure… if Ouma would want me around right now.”

 _They need to talk._ Amami’s thoughts whispered, more strongly this time _._ Communication was one of the most important foundations of a relationship, romantic or platonic, and to Amami it seemed quite apparent that communication was _not_ Ouma’s strong suit, despite being the Ultimate Supreme Leader. Amami felt a familiar brotherly instinct overcome him, the desire to cheer Ouma on. He wanted to protect him, care for him like the way he wanted to care for his younger sisters. Maybe it was because Ouma looked so young. Maybe it was because he seemed like a lost boy sometimes, whenever he got lost in his own thoughts. Maybe it was because of the sigh of relief he let out when he realized he was no longer bearing all his burdens alone.

Or maybe it was simply because Amami felt useless without someone to care for. At the end of the day, does it really matter?

“I think Ouma-kun would be delighted to see you.” Amami found himself saying. There was a smile in his voice. “It was good timing, too. I just remembered I have something else I _desperately_ needed to do. Would you mind taking these medicine and the food back to Ouma’s room?” he said as he practically pushed the tray onto Momota’s hands.

Momota’s eyes widened in panic. Alarm. Apprehension. Disbelief. As if Amami just handed him a time bomb instead of tray of fruits, water and porridge. “A-Are you sure?” he stammered. It was quite a sight, Momota stammering. He seemed like such a confident person. But when it comes to Ouma, that confidence just seems to fly out the window.

“Yeah. I have no choice, see. Monokuma is really hell bent on summoning me.” He lied as he put his right hand on his hips, the other fiddling with his hair. If it’s a lie that would help Momota gather up his courage to finally approach the Supreme Leader, it was a lie that was worth it. “So yeah. Off I go.”

“Y-Yeah…” Momota trailed off. His hands tightened on the tray as if he was afraid it would disappear. Amami was about to leave the warehouse when Momota suddenly shouted. “Amami!”

He glanced back, giving him a curious look. The astronaut hesitated. He licked his lips, looking a little scared and breathless, but sincerity and gratefulness shone in his eyes.

“Thank you.”

Amami made his first genuine grin in a while as made a playful good luck salute and headed off to wherever he could spend the rest of day to. As he made his way through the school corridors, he wondered if he should go check the new areas, but something tells him Ouma would want to check those together. The Supreme Leader would probably make a big deal about Amami not waiting for him with a huge tantrum and crocodile tears to boot. The image was quite amusing, but Amami would really rather avoid that mess. It was then that he remembered: _“Come on, trust me, casino coins would be really handy right now.”_

 _Casino coins, huh…_ he thought as he realized his feet was taking him in the direction of the casino. Maybe Ouma was lying or messing with him when he said that, but the thought of the Supreme Leader being delighted that Amami was working so hard despite him not being around made the adventurer smile. Maybe it would even save him from the inevitable scolding he’d get for sending Momota over.

He pushed the coins inside the slot machine. One at a time. _Fifty… Fifty-one… Fifty-two…_ He paused and frowned as he heard the coin clatter inside the machine. He stared at the lever for a moment too long, feeling a sense of restlessness gather in his chest. _Fifty-two. It should’ve been… the last one._ But he found himself taking another coin and pushing it in. _Fifty-three._ As soon as he did, a sense of satisfaction consumed his being, like an addict getting his fix, unable to stop. He tilted his head and made a frustrated sigh.

“What’s wrong with me these days?” he muttered, as he pulled the lever down.

_The Killing Game will never end._

 

 

* * *

 

There was… the door.

The door. The _fucking_ door. Momota shuffled uneasily in front of it, wondering whether or not it was a good idea to go inside. Ouma would be delighted to see him, Amami said--- as fucking if!  The astronaut was thankful for the chance Amami had given him, but he knew Ouma enough to know it’s never going to be easy with him. They might end up fighting again. Ouma might end up chasing him out of his room again. Was Momota’s heart ready for all of that mess? It wasn’t. Momota’s heart was _never_ ready for someone like Ouma. But he wasn’t a coward, dammit! Momota Kaito _doesn’t_ cower in front of doors, even if the door happens to be so fucking intimidating. He took a deep breath. _I can do this._ He raised his hand and gathered his courage. _I can do this._ Finally, he knocked.

“Come in, it’s open.” Ouma’s voice resounded from inside. For a moment, Momota was tempted to drop the tray and run--- where to, he wasn’t really sure. All he knew is that he wanted to be anywhere else than standing in front of the Supreme Leader’s room. Unfortunately, his body wasn’t with the program. It started moving on its own, turning the knob, peering ever so slightly…

Ouma was standing in front of his whiteboard thoughtfully, his back to him, leaning on the wall for support. He was rearranging the photos, Momota realized. Amami’s photo was no longer in the ‘victims’ column, but instead placed in the corner beside Saihara’s under the “Trustworthy?” section. There was a question mark beside the doodle of the shot put ball under Akamatsu’s picture. Momota noticed that Shinguuji and Angie were now in their proper places as well, but what caught his attention was his own photo, situated at the furthermost corner, away from all the others. He wondered what that could have possibly meant. _Nothing good, probably._ He thought with a heavy heart. Ouma was tapping the whiteboard marker against his cheek, and Momota was reminded of the way he did the same with the pen back in the love suite.

Ouma seemed deep in thought, but as soon as Momota entered, he _hissed._ “Not a fucking word, Amami-chan. I swear if you say _anything_ about this arrangement I’m going to fucking kick you out of my room.” He said, as he tapped the marker on the whiteboard, still not looking in his direction. Momota felt a little prickle of irritation at the fact that Ouma was _expecting_ Amami, though he wasn’t sure why. He bit his lip at he hesitated, wondering if he should just set down the tray and leave while he still could.

One moment. Two…

He couldn’t bring himself to leave. All he did was stand right there like an idiot, staring at Ouma’s back intently. The Supreme Leader wasn’t wearing his neckerchief at the moment, so Momota could clearly see where his thin shirt clung to his skin, wet from sweat, it seems. Whenever he leaned forward to write something, he stumbled a little bit, and the astronaut was tempted to reach over and support him himself; he’d do a way a better job than the _fucking wall._ He should probably say something… but his mouth felt dry and the words were stuck in his throat. What should he say anyway? He didn’t have a clue.

His hands tightened on the tray. He wasn’t a coward, dammit. He opened his mouth to speak, but it was at that moment that Ouma decided to look behind him, frowning, apparently finding it strange that ‘Amami-chan’ wasn’t responding.

Ouma’s eyes widened. Momota wished the ground to open up and eat him. It felt as though time stopped at that moment, the tension so thick that the astronaut found himself unable to breathe.

Finally, Ouma muttered. “What are you doing here?”

His tone was… blank. Emotionless, almost. Momota hesitated as he took a step back.

“I… well…” he moistened his lips. “Amami had somewhere to be, so he asked me to carry these into your room.” He replied, motioning to the tray. Ouma stared at it blankly for a moment too long. Momota could almost see the gears turning in his head, putting two and two together. Finally, he scowled.

“I’m going to _murder_ him.”

“What?” If Momota didn’t know Ouma better, he would have been deeply worried, because Ouma at the moment looked so irritated, he could _definitely_ kill someone. If he wasn’t so physically compromised by his current state Momota wouldn’t be surprised if he stomped his way out of the room right then and there, yelling for Amami to show himself. But it was obvious that he can barely even walk by himself, and to this Ouma groaned in utter frustration as he threw his marker hard on the floor and collapsed himself face-down on his bed.

“Uh…” Momota felt awkward, now uncertain what to do.

“What do you _want?!”_ Ouma demanded as his lilac eyes peered through the messy locks of his hair, glaring at the astronaut. His tone was poison. “Just leave the tray and get this shit over with.”

Irritation burned white hot in Momota’s chest. “If you find my presence so offending, _fine._ ” He snapped as he _slammed_ the tray down on the bedside table. What was he hoping for when he agreed to do this anyway? _Of fucking course_ Ouma would still be mad at him. _Stupid, stupid, stupid---_

The astronaut glared back. Something broke in Ouma’s expression, something Momota couldn’t place. His small hands tightened into fist, catching a handful of his bedsheets. “Go away.” He murmured as he buried his face against the mattress, and to Momota it sounded awfully like a plea. “Leave me alone.”

There was a tension in his shoulders. _Leave me alone._ Momota huffed indignantly, but he felt as if his heart was breaking like glass, the sharp debris digging painfully against his insides. He should never have come here. This was a big mistake. _Leave me alone._ Momota’s hands tightened to a fist. “I was just… going to do that.” He replied bitterly.

Neither of them moved.

Momota bit his lip hard. _Leave now._ He told himself. _Leave now, dammit!_ But he couldn’t. His feet felt like it was bolted to the floor. He didn’t _want_ to leave. He wanted to stay. He wanted to soothe that tension out of Ouma’s shoulders, to run his fingers through his hair. He wanted to pull him close and kiss his forehead and _beg_ him to _please let me stay by your side, let me be your strength, rely on me and_ never _do anything like that_ ever _again---_

Momota had heard somewhere that intense situations bond people in ways friends who had spent decades together often did not. And that’s how he felt right now, after cradling Ouma’s dying body against his chest, after _forcing_ the antidote down his throat… something inside Momota _broke,_ and his attachment to the Supreme Leader was only getting more painfully intense by the second. He didn’t know what the feeling was, but it was consuming him, little by little.

Suffocating. Overwhelming. Confusing. But despite everything, Momota couldn’t bring himself to hate it.

He didn’t know if it was a sentiment Ouma would appreciate. Not when the Supreme Leader made it a point to shy away from anything that was even remotely emotional. It was probably for the best if he stayed away, crush these strange feelings swirling inside him, run from the plum-haired troublemaker while he still can. But he couldn’t. He just _couldn’t._

The thought of Ouma shutting him out for good was horrifying. Momota had never been so completely terrified all his life. He found himself pleading to get a look, an expression, a sign--- _anything_ that would suggest that Ouma doesn’t completely despise him.

“Why are you still here, you dumb astronaut? I said leave me alone!” Ouma yelled as he lifted his head and _glared._ But there was a small quiver in his voice, so subtle that Momota would have missed it if he wasn’t paying attention. Momota’s eyes widened. The Supreme Leader abruptly looked away. And then there it was, a sharp gasp that reminded the astronaut of the time he had pinned him by the wrists on the floor of the love hotel. _A sign._

Momota took a step closer… and hesitated. Reached his hand out… and hesitated. When he lightly touched Ouma’s hair, the Supreme Leader cringed and buried his head in the mattress again, hiding from his gaze---

“Ouma… are you crying?”

Ouma’s shoulders shook. A sniffle... and then a cackle. “As if!”

“Okay, that’s _obviously_ a lie.”

“What’s it to you?” he snapped, though he still refused to look at him. “Fuck off.”

“Ouma…” Momota muttered patiently.

“Go _away._ Get out. _Fuck off.”_ He said, sounding a little frustrated. “Aren’t you satisfied yet? Do I need to think of a hundred more variations?”

“Ouma, come on---”

Silence. Momota sighed. Maybe… maybe it was better if he just left, after all---

“I liked it better when you called me Kokichi.”

Momota’s heart skipped a beat. _He… what?_ He felt as if his brain short-circuited for a moment. He found himself sitting down on the edge of the bed, disbelief evident in his voice when he asked. “Really?”

Ouma made a small noise that must have been a scoff. “No, that’s a lie.”

No it wasn’t, Momota could tell. Ouma, despite being a self-proclaimed liar, was actually fairly honest… at least, that’s what the astronaut could gather from their time together. The Supreme Leader simply uses his lies to hide his vulnerabilities, to conveniently retract his statements in times like these. He uses them to protect himself. Momota found himself wondering what kind of life he had led thus far, for such a defense mechanism to be so ingrained on him.

 _Stop protecting yourself. I’ll protect you instead._ He wanted to say, but he bit it back. Momota reached his hand out to touch his closed fist.

“Kokichi.” He murmured softly.

Ouma stilled. He seemed to swallow hard as he raised his head to stare at the astronaut, and sure enough, the corner of his eyes were brimming with tears. That was nothing new, everyone has seen him cry once or twice before, but those were crocodile tears. Childish temper tantrums. This was something else. Something raw and delicate. Something… real. Momota reached over to dry the tears with his fingers. Ouma looked away as he silently sat up, shifting so he was cross legged on the bed beside him.

Silence. So many unsaid words hung in the space between them, so many things they needed to talk about. No one dared to break the ice. Because once the dam was broken, they won’t be able to stop it--- torrents of emotion so unpredictable that only god knows what will be left in its aftermath. Sitting close to each other like this in silence was a better alternative. Momota knew they were only stalling the inevitable but fuck if he wasn’t going to enjoy this momentary peace to the fullest.

Suddenly, Ouma muttered. “Let me hit you.”

Momota was confused for a moment. “Uhh… okay?”

 _Thump._ Momota winced. Ouma swung his closed fist against his chest. It wasn’t too hard, but it was hard enough to hurt, just a little bit. _Thump._ Ouma wasn’t meeting his eyes. There was a certain restrained frustration in the way he moved, staring at his shirt as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. _Thump. Thump. Thump._ Ouma’s hands closed around his shirt, bunching some fabric on his fist as he leaned his forehead against him and took a shaky breath.

Finally he murmured, so low that it was almost inaudible. “Thank you.”

He wasn’t sure if he heard correctly. “For what?”

“Saving me.”

Warmth spread inside Momota’s heart. He stared down at Ouma, but the Supreme Leader already buried his face in his chest, unmoving. Momota swallowed hard as he lifted his arms, and not knowing what to do with them, he put it around Ouma’s small body, pulling him closer against him as he kissed the top of his head. _Thank you._ Ouma’s voice rang in his head. He remembered wanting an apology, but this was better. This was _way_ better. Ouma was grateful to be alive. He was grateful… to be alive.

Momota _laughed._

It was a laughter of relief, utter relief, all his worries dissolved by just two simple words. Ouma looked up at him and frowned in confusion and disapproval, but he couldn’t help it, he was just _so happy._ After everything that happened, after the shitstorm of emotional distress he had to wade through, just hearing that Ouma was _thankful_ for being alive was enough to make everything worth it. He realized he didn’t need an apology, nor an explanation. He didn’t need anything else. This was enough, more than enough.

“What’s so funny?” Ouma snapped. Momota shook his head as he stifled the laughter away.

“I… I’m just…” he ran his fingers through his hair--- oh right, his hair wasn’t loose anymore, he really should stop doing that--- as he bit his lip. “I’m just… _wow._ ”

Ouma frowned, a small wrinkle forming in his forehead. “Wow.” He repeated, unimpressed.

“Cut me some slack, okay? I’m processing it!” Momota replied indignantly.

A faint smile graced Ouma’s face. Just like that, everything in the world felt right again.

“Oh right.” Ouma chimed playfully. “I forgot Momota-chan is an idiot---“ he groaned as Momota ruffled his hair affectionately. “Stop that. It’s making me dizzy.”

“You deserve all the shit you’re getting right now, honestly.”

Ouma pouted. “How mean.”

Even after Momota said that, he still lifted his hands away. Ouma already felt awful, it was obvious, there was really no point in making him feel any worse. Momota was very aware of the heat emanating from Ouma in waves--- he was burning, and it was troubling. “See what your shitty actions gets you…” Momota muttered thoughtfully as he put his hand on his forehead. “ _Shit_ , Ouma, you’re really hot right now.”

Ouma’s lips twitched. “I know, right?”

Momota felt heat creep up his neck as he sputtered. “T-That’s not what I meant!”

“Yeah, right…” Ouma cooed weakly as he collapsed down on the bed, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes. His cheeks were flushed from the fever, his hair sticking against his skin, lips turned into a faint teasing smirk. Momota found himself realizing that okay, _maybe_ he did mean it that way just a _tiny little bit._

Not that he’d ever admit it. God, why does he think of Ouma that way anyway? Momota was just stricken with how pretty he was sometimes, he couldn’t help it! There was nothing wrong with appreciating someone’s good looks; he was surrounded by good-looking people all the time. Harukawa is pretty. Saihara is pretty. Ouma is _fucking gorgeous_ , and the most aggravating thing is: the fucker probably knows it.

Momota cleared his throat. “Let me just…” he trailed off, reaching his hand out to pull Ouma’s hair away from his face, gathering it into a ponytail. Ouma cocked a questioning eyebrow, but didn’t comment. “Do you have… uhh…”

“In the bedside drawer.” Ouma easily replied. Momota reached over and opened the drawer to find a couple of elastics. He took one and set to work, but he must have struggled for a bit too long, because after a while Ouma scoffed, prying the elastic from his fingers and tying his hair back himself. “Satisfied?”

A couple of strands escaped because it was just too short, framing his face, and Momota felt his mouth go dry. “Yeah... much better.” He replied. At least now his hair wasn’t all over the place. “And uhh… your shirt…”

Ouma looked amused. “What about my shirt, Momota-chan?”

Momota scowled. “I’m pretty sure someone with a fever shouldn’t be wearing wet clothes. Look at you, you’re all sweaty and shit.”

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?”

“W-What?!” Momota squeaked. “Of fucking course not! Why would I even like it in the first place?!”

“Nishishi.”

“Just---“ Momota took a deep breath as he tried his damnest to regain his composure. _Patience._ “---take your shirt off, Kokichi.”

Ouma giggled. “Momota-chan is sooooo forceful! I’m a little scared.”

Momota huffed as he took the pillow and threw it on Ouma’s face. The Supreme Leader was laughing, so carefree that Momota’s lips broke into a smile. All the tension from earlier seemed to have melted away. He walked over towards the closet, picking a spare shirt from the array of similar outfits, and when he looked back Ouma was already unsnapping the overly complicated latches of his clothes, revealing the milky skin of his chest… Momota looked away. It wasn’t the first time that he saw Ouma unclothed (since he had to change him into fresh clothes right after the poison incident, they were both soaked to the bone back then), but it was the first time that he felt self-conscious about it.

“Here.” He managed to choke out as he threw the spare shirt over to the Supreme Leader. Ouma was humming under his breath as he changed into fresh clothes, for once being nice and obedient. Once he finally finished, he reached over and plucked a grape from the pile of fruit Momota brought, throwing it in the air before catching it in his mouth. His eyes flitted over to Momota, and for a moment the astronaut shivered, because something about that stare…

“What?” Momota asked.

Ouma chewed slowly and swallowed. “Did you tell anyone?”

Momota’s hesitated. Somehow he understood that Ouma was asking about all the information he had relayed over to him in their stay in the love suite. He scratched the back of his head. “I didn’t. You just told me because you were going to kill yourself, it didn’t feel right.”

Ouma nodded slowly, but Momota could tell he was relieved. “Good...” He murmured, as his eyes darted off to the ceiling, deep in thought. “Good.”

“What are you planning to do now?”

Ouma frowned, and he glanced down, reaching his hand over near the base of the bed. It was the first time that Momota noticed the weird contraption there, something he’s never seen before. It was humming all this time and Momota was too strung up by the tension in the room to really pay attention to the white noise in the background. The Supreme Leader lifted it and cradled it against his chest, lost in thought.

“What’s that?” Momota asked, curious.

“Bugvac.” Ouma replied as he shut his eyes, nonchalant and dismissive. _Bugvac?_ Momota could vaguely remember Ouma talking about it before, something he made with Iruma. The Supreme Leader glanced at the whiteboard, a faraway gaze flitting through his expression as he bit his thumbnail, thinking. It was always a wonder to see him at work. Such a brilliant mind trapped in a small, fragile body. Finally, his expression cleared, determination burning in his lilac irises. “I have a plan. But I need more information. Amami-chan is going to help me with it. That should be enough for now.” He replied.

Momota hesitated as he sat back on the bed. “Is there anything I could do?”

Ouma gave him a calculating look. “What _can_ you do, Momota-chan?”

Momota felt a small pang of uneasiness in his chest. _He doesn’t need me._ He looked away. “I don’t know…” he trailed off, insecurity gnawing at his senses. “I just wanna help, I guess. Somehow.” _I’m tired of being useless._

There was a pregnant pause. He could tell that Ouma shifted on the bed by the way the mattress squeaked, and the next thing he knew there were warm fingers on his cheek, turning his face in his direction----

A blank stare. “Momota-chan can save me again if I do something stupid.”

Momota’s eyes widened. He raised his hand to touch Ouma’s fingers on his cheek, so small and fragile against his own… he frowned. “I don’t want to go through that again.” He replied honestly. _Please don’t let me go through that again._

Ouma’s smile was pained. Almost apologetic. “Too bad, Momota-chan. This is a Killing Game, and games require risks to win. I will always…” he pressed his forehead against his. “Always… always, always, always… do things that will put myself in danger.”

Momota’s hand tightened on Ouma’s fingers as his free arm snaked behind his back, pulling him closer, staring deep into his eyes… he could see the flecks of darker purple in his lilac irises, and it was mesmerizing. “Then at least let me take the danger for you.”

Ouma’s breath hitched. Time seemed to stop as they sat there, staring at each other’s eyes. They were so close. Ouma’s breath felt hot against his skin. Momota licked his lips.

“Stop that.” Ouma suddenly muttered.

Momota swallowed hard. His heart was pounding. “Stop what?” he asked. His voice felt strange to his ears. A little breathier. Huskier.

Something changed in Ouma’s expression. There was a certain hunger in his eyes, as if some semblance of self-control broke inside him. _So close…_ Momota tensed. This was unlike the time he made him drink the antidote--- back then it was all numb fear and sheer desperation. This was… different. It felt different. He wanted…

He wanted… what, exactly?

“Kokichi.” He muttered.

“Yeah?” the Supreme Leader asked, as his eyes settled down to stare at Momota’s lips. Momota resisted the urge to groan.

“What are we doing?” he asked.

Ouma blinked, as if he was coming out of a trance. And just like that, the spell was broken. The Supreme Leader reluctantly pulled away. His reply was hesitant.

“I don’t know.”

Awkward silence. The two of them sat there on the bed, staring at the mattress, hands on their laps. Momota cleared his throat.

“So… yeah.” He muttered awkwardly.

Ouma looked faintly irritated, but it didn’t seem to be directed at the astronaut. If anything, it seemed to be directed at _himself._ Ouma sighed heavily as he mumbled under his breath, but Momota only caught some of it. Something about Momota being bad for his self-control. Momota wasn’t sure if he gets it. He wasn’t sure if he _wanted_ to get it. The astronaut simply sat there, feeling like an idiot, and feeling very, _very_ disappointed.

He didn’t want to think about it.

Ouma suddenly took the bowl of porridge (now slightly cold) from the bedside table and started shoveling it in. Momota simply watched him, and over time his pace slowed, chewing and swallowing carefully. Once he finished half of the bowl, he took the glass of water, drank the medicine with it, placing it down on the tray as he laid down and pulled the blankets over his head.

“I’m going to sleep!” he announced, as if it wasn’t obvious already. But his announcement jerked Momota to his feet as he realized that it was time to go.

He stood up, hesitantly. “Yeah. Sleep well. I’ll just---“ he was about to walk to the door when Ouma’s hand suddenly shot from the covers, gripping the edge of his jacket.

“Stay.” was all Ouma needed to say.

Momota felt relief spread through his being as he sat back down, smiling. Ouma peeked in from under his blankets, giving him a slightly pleading (and _fucking adorable_ ) expression.

“What?” he asked, amused.

Ouma hesitated… and bit his lip. He didn’t want to say it. But he wanted _something._ Momota frowned, trying to figure out what it could possibly be. And then it hit him.

“Oh.” He muttered. “ _Oh._ Do you want me to… uhh…” He removed his jacket, hanging it on the headboard as he laid down, watching Ouma’s expression. There was a spark there, slightly shy and bashful, but Momota thought he looked pleased. Momota loosened his arms, inviting Ouma to huddle closer, and the Supreme Leader enthusiastically took the invitation, cuddling against his side. Like old times.

“You’re spoiling me.” Ouma suddenly murmured, but there was a smile in his voice.

Momota chuckled. “Only because you’re sick.”

Ouma hummed softly. Finally, his breaths slowed. Momota didn’t know how long he laid there, staring at the ceiling and cradling him in his arms, but the sound of Ouma’s even breathing finally made him a little sleepy as well. Ah, that made sense, since he didn’t get any sleep last night. Ouma was clutching at his shirt. It doesn’t seem like he’ll be going somewhere else, anytime soon. Momota didn’t mind. It’s not like he wanted to leave, anyway. Soon enough, Momota felt his eyes drifting close…

When he opened his eyes again, the clock read **11:47 PM.** Momota jerked awake as he remembered that _shit,_ he made plans with his sidekicks to check out the hidden door in the library, didn’t he? Ouma groaned in protest as he sat up, running his fingers through his hair in panic. He picked up the jacket and pulled his arms through the sleeves, cursing under his breath. _Shit shit shit._ He glanced at Ouma, placing a finger on his forehead. His fever seemed to have gone down. Good. He didn’t want to leave him right now, but he had to.

Is Saihara and Harukawa still waiting for him? He hoped not. Aside from his plans with them, he had other things to do tonight too… he cursed himself for being so unreliable. He checked his jacket pockets, making sure the tote bag was in there. He didn’t think he’d sleep _that_ long… damn, his body must have been more tired than he thought. Striding towards the door, he touched the knob and opened it, peering into the hallway…

“I _knew_ I’d find you in there.” A familiar voice echoed into the night.

Momota’s eyes widened when he saw him, leaning against the railings. “…Shuuichi?”

Saihara hesitated as he shifted on his feet, looking unsure. He frowned a little bit as determination steeled his gaze, an expression that rarely ever graces the detective’s face.

“I think we need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amami just adopted Momota and Ouma. XD A M A M I P R O T E C C 
> 
> Who’s Hanae? I borrowed the name from a fic I’ve read a while back jnsjdnsjdnsdk once the juicy stuff is revealed, I’ll credit you and your fic! I promise!


	6. "Don't get in my way, Monokuma."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Momota takes care of things on his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the wonderful comments and support! I don't deserve you guys. It just made me more hyped for the scenes to come! :D 
> 
> So! Let's continue! :D

“I think we need to talk.”

Momota gulped as he saw the expression on the detective’s face, feeling himself get a little self-conscious by the fact that he was just caught coming out of someone else’s bedroom in the middle of the night--- _Ouma’s,_ of all people. He closed the door carefully and locked it so as not to disturb the Supreme Leader (he could always pick it open if he wanted to come back, he thought with a bit of satisfaction), but the click of the door against the doorframe sounded unnaturally loud in the silence of the night, making both him and Saihara cringe. The detective seemed to have a bit on his mind, and Momota wondered what must have been going on in his head, but first of all he needed to get this one thing out of the way, for blowing the plans they made together.

“I’m sorry, Shuuichi.” He started as he scratched the back of his head and sighed. He felt really lame for making them wait for him. He could only hope they weren’t too worried. “I fell asleep. I didn’t forget the plan, I promise! I just--- didn’t think I’d sleep that long.” He muttered sheepishly. “Should’ve set an alarm or something…”

Saihara blinked in surprise. “No! It’s alright. Momota-kun. Really, it is. We did worry a little bit since we couldn’t find you anywhere, but… ah…” he raised his finger to his chin. “We decided to postpone it for the morning when Amami-kun told us you must have already gone to sleep. I checked your room, though, and you weren’t there so I thought…” he trailed off, glancing at the cute pixel art of the Supreme Leader above the door frame.

Momota felt his ears burn. “You thought… I’d be in here?”

Saihara made a faint, knowing smile. “I’m a detective, after all.”

Silence. Saihara intertwined his fingers together anxiously. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he was hesitating. Instead, he asked. “Is Ouma-kun sick?”

To this Momota gave a resigned chuckle. It seemed to have become a silent rule not to tell the others about what happened (Momota figured Ouma would rather eat dirt than admit he tried to kill himself for the group, and to his relief Amami seemed to be keeping what he saw to himself as well), but as expected of the Ultimate Detective, he notices things. It can’t be helped, he supposed. “You really are a good detective, Shuuichi. As expected of my sidekick!” He said with a grin, placing a hand on his hip. “I guess I can’t get anything past you. How did you know?”

Saihara flushed at the compliment. His hand wandered to his hair uneasily. “W-Well, you said Amami-kun was with him, and when Amami-kun came to the dining hall earlier today, he had porridge and fruit on his tray, a typical diet for someone who’s sick.” The detective frowned. “What happened? If it was merely from starvation, he wouldn’t take this long to recover. It was only three days after all, and you seem fine.”

Momota’s smile morphed into an apologetic one. “I…” he hesitated. “ _Shit._ I can’t tell you, Shuuichi. He’ll kill me.”

Saihara nodded easily, as if he expected it, but he placed his hand over his mouth… deep in thought. A hint of frustration flashed on his expression, until finally he let the mystery go, albeit reluctantly. Momota couldn’t help but think that in that few seconds, he already considered a few theories of his own. “Then, is he at least doing alright?” Saihara asked. “I find it mildly concerning that Ouma-kun was nowhere to be found all day. He isn’t… um, dying or anything, is he?”

Momota remembered the Ouma he left inside the room, sleeping peacefully but already looking way better than he did earlier this afternoon. He grinned. “Yeah! His fever has gone down. I’ll bet you an Astro cake he’ll be back to terrorizing people in the morning.” He chuckled, but over time the glee slowly faded, as he realized the implication of his words.

Tomorrow Ouma would probably be back to his old self, being the little shit that he was. Momota knew he couldn’t force the Supreme Leader to change his views or be cooperative or trust other people (Except Amami, who he seemed to get along with easily for some reason. Momota internally scowled.) but it’s important for them to all work together to get out of here, right? He said he had a plan. Momota couldn’t help but feel uneasy about his plans, especially since the last one involved chugging down a bottle of poison. But this time, Ouma had Amami’s assistance. Amami… who seemed to genuinely care about the Supreme Leader’s well-being, as far as he could tell. Amami, who Ouma put in the “Trustworthy?” section of his whiteboard. The same section that holds… Saihara.

“Momota-kun?” Saihara prompted, looking confused with his distracted expression. Momota blinked as he considered his train of thoughts, suddenly founding himself asking.

“Shuuichi, how do you feel about Kokichi?”

Something flashed in Saihara’s eyes when he said Ouma’s name, as if something clicked inside that detective brain of his. Something he was uncomfortable about. “About Ouma-kun?” he asked, hesitant. “Well… I’m honestly not sure what to make of him, or if we can even trust him. He’s so closed off from the group, and at times he even messes with us, like the Insect Meet and Greet Incident…” he trailed off. Then a thought seemed to occur to him, as he asked. “Do _you_ trust him, Momota-kun?”

“I’d trust him with my life.” Momota found himself saying. No qualms, no hesitation. As soon as he said it, he knew he meant it in every sense of the word. Saihara’s eyes widened.

“Oh.” He murmured. “I see. But…”

 _Why?_ The question was in the way Saihara shifted his weight, the way he looked away anxiously, as if he didn’t want to offend him somehow. Momota realized this must have been what’s on his sidekick’s mind all this time, the reason he wanted to talk. Momota couldn’t blame him--- a week ago he would be as hesitant as Saihara currently is about trusting the fickle Supreme Leader. Momota smiled. It was quite heartwarming, his sidekick trying to look out for him.

“Shuuichi, do you trust me?” he asked. Saihara’s eyes widened.

“Yes.” He said rather quickly, as if he didn’t want Momota to ever doubt otherwise. “I do trust you, Momota-kun. But we are in a killing game after all, and what you said back in my lab was right. Trusting blindly… at this point, could get more of us killed---“

“I’m not trusting Kokichi blindly!” Momota said, pressing his fists together determinedly. “I promise I’m not.”

“I see… That’s good, I suppose.” Saihara replied, shifting his weight uneasily. He looked like he desperately wanted to ask something, but couldn’t. A moment of awkward silence passed, until finally, the detective seemed to gather just enough courage to steel his resolve. “Momota-kun, you and Ouma-kun aren’t…” he trailed off. Momota raised an eyebrow and waited. “…dating, are you?”

Momota sputtered. “W-What?!”

“Sorry if I misunderstood!” Saihara said all too quickly, backtracking on his statements. “It’s just that… it seems to be a possible conclusion. Your reactions to anything regarding Ouma-kun are a little…” his eyes narrowed a bit as he covered his mouth with his palm thoughtfully. Then he abruptly looked away. He was rambling. “W-Well, not that there’s anything wrong with that. If you say he’s trustworthy, then I’ll support the two of you, Momota-kun. It’s just that, um, I’m not sure how Harukawa-san would take this considering her opinion of him… it’s probably better if you talk to her first about your relationship---“

“R-Relationship?!” Momota squeaked. Was that what Saihara thought?! That was just--- No! “Shuuichi, what the fuck?! You’re taking this all wrong! I swear! Me and Kokichi--- there’s nothing between us, okay? What did you think I was doing inside here anyway?!”

Saihara flushed, looking flustered as he stammered. “T-That’s none of my business now, is it?”

 _Oh, hell no._ Momota took a deep breath as he tried to compose himself, covering his face with his palm. Saihara couldn’t possibly be thinking that he--- _no._ He doesn’t even--- _no._ How would that even work, anyway? They’re both guys! A part of him was suddenly very curious about it. _Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck---_

“I was taking care of him, for fuck’s sake! He was sick! We cuddled and fell asleep---“

Saihara’s eyes widened. “Cuddled?”

“There is _nothing wrong_ with cuddling! Nothing wrong at all!” Momota said indignantly. This was a rationalization he had hammered inside himself since cuddling became a thing between them in the love hotel. Two guys cuddling in a bed is _not weird._ At all. It was completely friendly, and completely platonic, and solely to help Ouma sleep peacefully, since he seemed to sleep better with him there. There was nothing weird there. _Nothing._ Because if there was… if there was…

He remembered the feeling of Ouma’s fragile frame against his arms, his hot breaths against his skin, lilac eyes lowering to gaze at his lips hungrily… _What are we doing? I don’t know._

Momota covered his face and groaned in frustration. When he opened his eyes to look through his fingers, he saw that Saihara was faintly smiling in wonder. When Saihara realized he was staring, he immediately tore his eyes away. “Ah… I apologize. It’s just that… it’s my first time to see Momota-kun look so flustered.”

Momota frowned. “Seriously?”

The detective nodded. “You always looked so perfectly confident and perfectly at ease, it’s easy to forget you’re human just like the rest of us.” He confessed. “You’ve changed somewhat, but I don’t think that’s a bad thing. If anything…” he trailed off, the smile returning to his face. “If anything, I feel like Momota-kun is being more genuine now. Not that you were lying back then or anything! But now I feel a little closer to you--- ah, I apologize, that probably doesn’t make much sense…”

Momota blinked as he considered Saihara’s words. _I’ve changed?_ He glanced down at himself. He didn’t feel any different, but his sidekick seemed to think the change was significant enough to comment on. The fact that he was no longer ‘perfectly confident and perfectly at ease’, as Saihara put it, unsettled him. He wanted his old self back, the person who can support the people he wanted to support effortlessly. The person everyone can rely on. The hero everyone needed.

 _“Maybe sometimes you should stop trying so hard. I don’t think there’s only one kind of hero, you know.”_ Ouma’s voice echoed in his head, just as it had earlier this morning.

 _Ah…_ Momota thought as his eyes widened. _That’s what it meant._

“Shuuichi.” He found himself muttering.

The detective looked up at him attentively. “Yes, Momota-kun?”

Momota licked his lips. “Do you mind? Me being kinda different, I mean.”

The detective blinked, looking a little confused at his question, but he replied nonetheless. “Not at all, Momota-kun.”

Relief. Momota hated the fact that he felt relieved. He was so stupid, Ouma would probably laugh at him if he could see into his head right now. All this time he didn’t realize how much pressure he’d put himself under, but now that it was off he felt a hundred times better, a thousand times freer. He would probably never stop being supporting others either way, just as he would never drop his aspirations to be a _hero_. It was a part of him after all. . .but realizing it was okay to have off days, to be vulnerable every once in a while, was a lesson that Ouma had been wanting to teach him back then, hypocritical fucker that he is.

“God, he’s such a fucking asshole.” Momota said as he chuckled under his breath, more from nerves that humor.

Now Saihara looked even more confused. “Who?”

Momota simply shook his head as he patted Saihara’s shoulders. “Nothing. Thank you, Shuuichi.” He said with a gentle squeeze. Saihara’s eyes widened, but eventually a smile graced his face.

“Momota-kun, you seem to be in a better mood now. Did you and Ouma-kun makeup?”

“Yeah.” Momota replied, as he remembered their earlier conversation, a fond smile on his face. “Yeah, we did.”

“But you two aren’t---“

“I _swear,_ Shuuchi. Fuck, we’re not dating!” He insisted, then cursed himself for the disappointment that coursed inside his heart. “I’m… pretty sure he doesn’t like me that way. So shut up. _Shut. Up._ ”

“But…” Saihara hesitated, still _not_ shutting up. “You _do_ like him, don’t you, Momota-kun?”

Momota felt the sudden urge to hit Saihara. Maybe hard enough to make him forget about his theories? Give him a partial amnesia? Is that _fucking_ possible? He wanted to scream. He didn’t want to think about it. _He didn’t want to think about it_ . Ever. He _doesn’t_ have feelings for Ouma. Even if he wanted to hold him and cuddle him and protect him from the world--- _No!_ He’d never even had a crush on someone before, he was already way too committed to his astronaut training. What makes Ouma so fucking different?!

Saihara looked like he was trying hard not to laugh. Momota realized he must have been blushing. “ _Fuck you._ ” he snarled, as he covered his face with his hand.

“I’d take that as a yes?”

“No, take it as a _fuck you._ I have no feelings for the little shit, _whatsoever._ ” Momota replied. His tongue felt strange, dripping with words that he knew deep inside were lies. “We’re friends, okay?! _Just_ friends. So shut up and go to sleep or… whatever.”

Saihara was smiling as he pretended to zip his mouth, nodding in farewell as he started on his way downstairs. The way his eyes twinkled made it clear he wasn’t buying Momota’s denial at all, and Momota doesn’t know how to feel about having such a nosy sidekick around him. A _detective_ , to make things worse. He’s so _fucked. Arghhh_.

He sighed heavily as he leaned on Ouma’s door, staring up at the ceiling of the hallway as he tried to compose himself. _“You_ do _like him, don’t you, Momota-kun?”_

“I don’t like him. At all.” He told himself. Like a mantra. This is fine. He’s already more than happy with what they have right now. This is _fine_ . This is _enough._ Because if he dared admit his feelings, if he dared hope for more, he’d only be scaring Ouma away… right? The Ultimate Supreme Leader doesn’t _appreciate_ sentiment. He doesn’t _appreciate_ feelings. Besides, it’s weird since they’re both guys anyway. Does Ouma even swing that way? Maybe he did, he seemed to flirt a fair bit with Saihara before. No, that’s irrelevant. Momota didn’t need to know. This is fine. This is fine. He took a deep breath as he slapped his face a fair bit. “Time to get to work, Kaito. Don’t screw this up.”

He steeled himself for what he was about to do as he relaxed the tension in his shoulders, putting everything he talked about with Saihara at the back of his head.

Momota didn’t know it, but at the other side of the door, Ouma buried his face between his knees, chuckling mirthlessly to himself.

“I’m so stupid.” He murmured.

 

* * *

 

Things went more smoothly than Momota expected.

Sneaking back into the school in the middle of the night certainly would have been suspicious if someone had spotted him, but he supposed if he was caught he had his good reputation to fall back on, no problem. He _did_ almost run into Gokuhara (he’s seemed to be patrolling the area for some reason) and at one point he heard moaning in the computer room (If he didn’t know any better, Iruma’s probably humping that computer. The image made him shudder), but all in all he managed not to get spotted by his classmates as he made his way up the stairs, one floor at a time.The idea had been in his mind since he’d seen Saihara’s lab--- it was a relief that Ouma was incapacitated all day, because he’d rather die than let him hold one of those _fucking poison bottles_ \---

He glanced back behind him. He didn’t know if it was the nerves, but he thought he saw a shadow in the corner of his eye. Instantly he felt nervous. He couldn’t help but feel as if he was being watched… _It just might be Monokuma or the audience._ He thought. _Let them fucking watch._

“Oooh! What’s this? The Ultimate Astronaut sneaking in the middle of the night? How mighty suspicious~!”

Speak of the devil.

Momota glared in the direction of the voice. The corridor he was in was quite dim, but the bear’s red eye flashed in the darkness, bathing some surfaces with an eerie crimson glow.

“What do you want?” Momota snarled, but he continued walking towards his destination, not bothering to give the bear his time of the day. Monokuma giggled as he followed along, his footsteps squeaking against the floor.

“Well, well, well! It’s just unlike you to go visit the school in the middle of the night, so I was _bear-_ y curious! You’re acting a little bit suspicious here… don’t tell me you’re planning a murder! Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. You’ll lose some fans if you are, they _adore_ your hero trope. But hey, not that I’m going to stop you! Just thinking about the despair this would bring is making me feel _all tingly!_ ”

“Shut up.” Momota replied. He was tempted to tell Monokuma to fuck off. To inform him that _no,_ he’ll never commit murder, _ever_ , but there’s a better way to do this. He was prepared to sneak into the school to do this _every night_ if that’s what it takes, but maybe he won’t need to do that. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _Are you any good_ _at_ _acting, Momota-chan?_ When he opened his eyes again, he gave Monokuma a cold look. “Don’t get in my way, Monokuma.”

Monokuma put his paws on his cheeks. “Of course not! I’m always rooting for unlikely killers.”

Momota swallowed hard. “I _hate_ you.” He said with as much emotion as he could muster. “But I _need_ to get out. I’m not going to fucking die here. So fuck off.” He was shaking by the time he had finished that statement, feeling genuinely sick to his stomach. But that’s okay. Because this is all just a lie. And the more conflicted and shaken he looked to Monokuma, the more the bear would be inclined to believe it.

The bear bid his farewell with a devilish, anticipatory grin. Momota wondered if Ouma would be proud. That night he realized why the Supreme Leader was so adamant about acting like a bad guy. Because acting like a villain can apparently do wonders in keeping yourself out of off the bear’s radar.

The rest of his work was easy. When he stepped inside the Ultimate Detective’s lab he wasted no time at all, and started loading the bottles carefully inside the tote bag, along with some instruments he might need. The bottles clinked and rattled against each other, but he was careful to make sure they stayed intact. His eyes flitted to the case files… He _could_ burn those, but that would probably be against the “no to breaking school property” rule, so he left it reluctantly. The bag was heavy, but he lugged it around downstairs, across the courtyard, into his room, shutting the door close.

If “underage porn”, as Monokuma put it, was one thing they wanted to avoid exposing the audience to, then Momota was pretty sure there was one more place the producers wouldn’t _dare_ put cameras in.

Bathrooms.

When he finally managed to carry the heavy tote bag inside his bathroom he was already panting hard, the physical strain getting to him. He felt a shudder run through him as he covered his mouth, tasting the familiar taste of rust in his tongue--- He coughed hard on the bathroom sink, the pearly white surface getting stained with crimson. Once the fit was over he rinsed his mouth, closing his eyes as he waited for the world to right itself…

Eventually it did. Momota popped a few painkillers in his mouth as he started to work. First he read each bottle’s label. There was one poison in a clear glass that could be neutralized once it’s mixed, so he did that. The others on the other hand, proved to be trickier, and he was grateful he carried their antidotes with him, since going back up there to get it would take too much time. He was no Ultimate Chemist, but he was a _fucking scientist_ , he would be long out of astronaut training if he couldn’t handle a little chemistry.

Unfortunately, there _are_ some bottles he could do nothing about, so he decided to just flat out empty them into the sink and fill them with tap water. When he saw a familiar orange bottle, he immediately emptied it out of spite, not even bothering to read the label. He ’d had _enough_ of that fucking poison. As he worked, his mind wandered to Monokuma and their talk earlier. If he ’d convinced him well enough that he’s planning a murder, the bear _should_ leave these bottles alone, since messing with them would be against the rules. He resolved to check it every day to make sure. He was _that_ desperate to keep Ouma from touching this dangerous shit again.

“God, I’m pathetic.” He whispered self-deprecatingly as he dried the bottles out with a spare shirt, placing them back inside the tote bag. In a few hours the sun would rise. And when it did, these should be back inside the Ultimate Detective’s lab, looking as if nobody had touched them.

When Momota finished, he couldn’t help but feel a little proud of himself. He was already heading back to his room, an empty tote bag in his jacket pocket, when he saw it under one of the benches. His eyes widened as he approached it, leaning down to reach…

A flashback light. _Huh._ Momota turned it over in his hands, deep in thought.

_I guess I’ll bring this up to the group tomorrow._

 

* * *

 

Ouma woke up feeling physically better, but emotionally worse.

He shouldn’t have listened to Saihara and Momota’s conversation outside his door last night. That was a bad, bad idea. Last night, Momota made it pretty clear he doesn’t like him. That he doesn’t want anything more than just be _friends_ with him _,_ and that was great, because as far as Ouma was concerned, he didn’t _want_ to have romantic affiliations anyway. Relationships are overrated and are always bound to end in a huge mess. Besides, romance has no place in a vile Killing Game. He should know that. He _should._ But why…

Why was he feeling so _disappointed_?

Did he subconsciously get his hopes up? What was he hoping for anyway? Momota was just a kind person, after all. Ouma was just one of his many friends, nothing special. _Nothing special…_

Ouma felt like he wanted to cry. But that’s stupid. That’s so, _so_ stupid. _Stop it._ He scolded himself. _Feelings are a liability. Stop it. Stop. It._

He took a deep breath as he paused in front of the dining hall door. He shifted his weight as he looked down at his clothes. He looked fine, right? He still had a mild fever, but that’s alright, as long as nobody touched him long enough to notice. His joints felt stiff, his muscles sore, but he could walk now, much to his relief. Running still makes him dizzy, but if he gets tired he could just annoy Amami into giving him a piggyback ride. That won’t look strange, they’ll just think he’s being his unreasonable self again. He had stared into the mirror this morning, and the bruise on his cheek was mostly gone, just a faint green that they might see if they squint really, really hard.

 _It’s all good._ He thought, as he pushed the door open.

It’s been so long since he last stepped in here, more than a week now. He felt a bit of dread when he saw that their group has gotten quite smaller, now with Yonaga and Shinguji gone. Amami’s eyes lit up when he saw him (considering the tray beside him, Ouma supposed he was planning to check up on him after breakfast), and his face seemed amused and hesitant, no doubt looking forward to how Ouma would react to his stunt yesterday. Ouma gave him a small glare, which only seemed to amuse him more, as the Supreme Leader then tore his eyes away, surveying the rest of the group. There seemed to be a commotion happening. He skipped towards the table as he listened.

“But we gotta do it! If not now, then when?!” Gokuhara was saying. He looked intense, hands poised in a fighting stance, looking evidently worked up.

“L-Like I said before, it’s reckless! There are still two exisals, right?” Shirogane pointed out, distress evident in her expression. Ouma sat beside Amami and whispered in his ear.

“What’s happening, Amami-chan?”

“Gokuhara-kun wants to fight the exisals, but we all think it’s a bad idea. He’d just get himself killed.” Amami said easily as he passed him along a glass of milk. Ouma took a sip as he watched the scene unfold with interest. Saihara and Yumeno now chimed in to help calm the entomologist down. _Huh_ . Ouma thought. When did the magician start getting so lively? And is that Chabashira holding her hand under the table? A lot of interesting things have apparently happened while he’s been gone. Gokuhara started talking about how _real gentlemen_ would risk their lives, and how he would gladly give up his life to save everyone--- to which Ouma almost choked on his milk because hey, isn’t that a familiar sentiment. Momota seemed to think so, because it was at that point that he clenched his fist and spoke.

“Giving up your life to save everyone is not gentlemanly, it’s fucking selfish. Because we _want_ you alive, Gonta. And if you die to save our own asses then we’ll never feel good that we survived.” He said, and it was so full of emotion that it shut everyone up in the room. Ouma had a feeling that it wasn’t just Gonta he’s talking to in that moment, and when he looked up his suspicions were confirmed, because Momota was looking straight at him, his gaze intense and unfaltering.

Gokuhara seemed to deflate at that statement, his determination finally breaking. “Gonta is sorry! Gonta didn’t realize he’s being selfish!” he said, though tears were edging at his eyes. “Please forgive Gonta!”

Ouma had already finished his milk at the time it took Gokuhara to calm down. The breakfast continued without much excitement, although Gokuhara did mention that the slab of concrete in the courtyard gained a few more letters (Amami glanced at Ouma with confusion as the group speculated that it might just be a prank) and Amami shared that he had finally remembered his talent (Saihara in particular looked disappointed at the Ultimate Adventurer reveal, and Ouma had a feeling it’s because he too found it odd). Somewhere in the middle of the meal, a plate of rice balls was passed along to him, and when he looked up he saw Momota’s eyes twinkling, giving him a faint smile.

Ouma’s heart skipped a beat. He hated that it kept doing that shit. He took a rice ball from the plate and started nibbling.

“Looks like someone made up with someone.” Amami murmured teasingly.

“Shut up.” Ouma hissed. Amami chuckled.

“So! Now that we got that out of the way, we’ve got more important things to do!” Momota suddenly said, enthusiasm in his voice, as he pressed his fists together. He pulled out a flashback light from under the table and showed it off to everyone with a grin. “I found this when I was walking around last… I mean, yesterday.” Momota said eagerly. Saihara’s eyes lit up. Iruma whooped. Amami looked faintly confused, but Ouma supposed that was to be expected, since the adventurer has never encountered those fishy flashback lights before.

Ouma perked up. “Oh hey, the flashback light! Lemme see that!” he said as he held his hand out, only to be slapped away by Harukawa.

“If you think we’re going to let you touch something so important, you must be out of your mind.” The assassin muttered with a bit of contempt. “Especially since Yonaga destroyed the last flashback light. Don’t get any ideas.”

Crocodile tears edged around Ouma’s eyes. “Harukawa-chan… I would never!”

“I’m sorry, but what is a flashback light?” Amami interjected. Some of the students seem to shudder, reminded of the reason why he wasn’t aware of this strange piece of technology, a technology that has made quite a mark in their daily lives in this school. _He was dead._ It was such a weird thing to wrap their head around.

Chabashira pressed her hands together and smiled anxiously. “W-Well… you see, Amami-kun…”

“Nyeh… explaining is a pain…” Yumeno said, pulling her hat down. “Can we just move on already?”

“Don’t worry, Yumeno-san! Tenko will explain it to him in a jiffy!” Chabashira said eagerly. “You see, flashback lights are---“

“Yumeno-chan’s right! We don’t have time for explanations!” Ouma rudely interrupted as he raised his hands out dramatically, giving Amami a smirk. “Why don’t we just _show_ Amami-chan what a flashback light is? That’s easier, right?”

“Stop interrupting me, degenerate!”

“I think Ouma-kun is correct!” Kiibo said as he put his hands on his hips with a smile. “It _is_ quite hard to explain after all. It would be far easier to let Amami-kun experience it himself, as we all did the first time.”

“Riiiiight? Kiiboy totally gets me! Unlike nasty Harukawa-chan!” Ouma said, pointing a finger at the assassin. Harukawa simply sighed as he mumbled under her breath. Ouma closed his hands in front of him as he leaned in excitedly. “So, come on, Momota-chan! Push it push it push it---“

“Fucking calm down, you little shit. I’m on it.” Momota said as he looked down on the flashback light, trying to find the switch through the mess of wires---

“I bet Momota-chan doesn’t have the balls to turn the switch---“

“Of course I do!” Momota yelled indignantly. As if to prove his point, he thumbed the switch hard.

_And once again, the world warped---_

Getting exposed to the flashback lights was always a jarring experience. The images flashing in your head, the dots connecting together, the realization that _ah, yes, this happened, I remember it_ \--- it overwhelmed Ouma the first time they used it, but now that he had his own theories about what truly is happening behind the scenes, it was merely like watching a movie unfold at the back of his eyelids. He saw flashes of news reports warning about meteorites, people rallying with their ‘Mankind deserves Damnation’ banners, the Gofer Project--- he almost wanted to laugh. What a joke. The plot was overly dramatic, absurd at best, like a lame story a child could come up with. And yet, knowing his classmates, he knew they’d eat it all up. How could they not? If Monokuma and the exisals and the flashback lights exist, then anything is possible. Even reviving the dead.

Ouma took a deep breath as he opened his eyes, preparing for the backlash, the panic and fear that’s bound to grip his gullible classmates. He wasn’t surprised at all to see that everyone looked pale, alarmed at the very least. Iruma started freaking the hell out. Saihara looked thoughtful as his detective brain frantically tried to make sense of the information.  But to the Supreme Leader’s delight, Momota was frowning, obviously sensing that something didn’t add up, especially since he _knew._ The earth couldn’t have been destroyed if people were watching them. And if people weren’t watching them, what’s the point of making the Killing Game a _game_?

Ouma’s eyes critically looked at each and every one in their group, trying to read them. _Who’s going to break?_ He wondered. It wasn’t going to be Momota. Saihara looked more intrigued than worried. Harukawa didn’t have much to kill for, she wasn’t even interested to watch her own motive video. Murder is too out of character for Gokuhara, and too much of a pain for Yumeno. Chabashira would never do anything that would hurt her young mage. That leaves Tsumugi… and Iruma.

Iruma whose eyes were flitting all around the room, desperation echoing in her every movement. Ouma’s heart dropped.

_The electrobombs aren’t even finished yet…_

“Amami-chan.” He whispered beside him, shaking Amami’s thigh from under the table. Amami didn’t respond. He glanced at his side. The adventurer was staring blankly at the table, looking deathly pale. Ouma frowned.

“Amami-chan…?” he tried to shake him a little bit, concerned. Amami blinked and snapped out of it, but he stared back at him as if he couldn’t recognize him, and his breaths were getting faster and faster, green eyes shutting hard as he groaned as if in pain--- Ouma felt panic rise in his gut. He didn’t expect this reaction at all. What _should_ he do? What the hell is happening? “Amami-chan, are you alright? Calm down---“

Suddenly Amami stood up, his own chair tumbling to the floor, but he paid it no heed. The group looked up at him in surprise, clearly not expecting his sudden movement. He swallowed hard as he murmured. “I’m sorry. I just… need a moment---“

Before anyone could react, the Ultimate Adventurer was out of the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Momota is easy to dismiss as an idiot, bet let's not forget that he's the Ultimate Astronaut, who aced an astronaut exam that REQUIRED college level knowledge to pass. Momota may not be a very good tactician or strategist, but he's smart. That's what I believe from the bottom of my heart. He's rarely given any credit for his intelligence, so I make it my life's mission to make it apparent when I can. XD 
> 
> Oh! That scene with Gokuhara wanting to fight Monokuma was going to lead to Momota puching Ouma in canon, but since they have this new layer of understanding between each other, it ended up being very, very different. :3


	7. "You're dead!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Broken Memories. Somehow, Momota gets himself a "date".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the wonderful comments! They make my day! And honestly: long, detail-filled comments give me the motivation I need to keep writing! :D 
> 
> This is betaread by @Comatose_Overdose! Thank you! You're wonderful.

Voices.

_“Amami-kun.”_

_“Ran-nii-san!”_

_“A-KILLING-GAME.”_

_“I’m scared, I’m so scared, I’m sorry…”_

Amami groaned as he walked through the corridors, hands flailing about blindly as he tried to catch his breath. The walls felt like closing around him, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe--- _Let me out! Please let me out, please let me out---_ he burst through the main school entrance, gasping sharply as he was greeted with green grass and blue skies and the end wall and the birdcage and---

“Amami-chan! Wait!” someone called out behind him, but he was already too lost in his own head to pay attention. A shudder ran through him as he found himself continuing, his feet moving on its own… where? _Room._ He decided. _Room. Room. Room._ He doesn’t want anyone to see him like this, writhing and gasping and groaning in pain _._ His head hurts, _everything_ hurts, please stop, please stop---

 _“Amami Rantarou?_ You’re _Amami Rantarou?!”_

_“If that damn show didn’t exist my sister would still be alive!”_

_“You’re going in again? That’s crazy!”_

_“It’s all your fault!”_

Amami covered his mouth, feeling so dizzy he wanted to throw up all over the ground. Images flashed in his head--- a drowning boy, a stage on fire, a rain of blood, Akamatsu hanging by the neck, (huh, that’s weird he never saw Akamatsu get hanged)--- he scrambled to enter the dorms, barely managing to open his bedroom door but as soon as he did he hurried over to the bathroom, throwing up everything that he’d just eaten into the sink---

“Stop it.” he murmured, his mouth tasting like vomit and bile as he banged his head lightly on the wall. “Please stop it, stop it, make it stop---“

Another flash of pain spiked at the back of his eyes, and he saw a familiar girl with dark blue hair and glasses, glaring at him with contempt. _“Do you think I have a choice? The audience_ loves _you---”_

“Fuck you!” he yelled. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck _all of you---“_

“Amami-chan.”

Amami gasped as he opened his eyes, seeing Ouma standing by the door, concern evident in his eyes. He didn’t realize he’s been crouching down on the bathroom floor, trying to catch his breath, hands shaking. Ouma looked worried as he stood before him, hesitantly reaching his hands out to pat his shoulder. Amami tensed at the contact, and nearly cringed away, but determination flashed in Ouma’s gaze as he stepped closer, carefully putting his arms around the adventurer, squeezing tight. He didn’t say anything, but the contact somehow helped, grounding Amami back in reality. Amami clung to him as the shudders passed, swallowing hard as he waited for the pain to subside and the voices to abate. _Deep breaths, Rantarou._ He told himself. _Deep breaths._

Slowly, his gasps turned to pants, and the pants into even breathing. Amami was still shaking, but Ouma didn’t seem to mind. The Supreme Leader was caressing his back soothingly, caringly. Amami instantly felt horrible. Didn’t he tell himself he’s going to take care of Ouma? Why is it going the other way around? He shouldn’t be like this. He should’ve been able to stay calm and collected. He should be the one reassuring those he deemed under his care. Even now, he was still a failure as an older brother. _Pathetic._

“Feeling better, Amami-chan?” Ouma asked. Amami didn’t reply, he simply struggled to stand up, still mildly disoriented. Ouma watched him with a curious, piercing gaze. Finally, he muttered with a small hesitant smile. “Amami-chan, what just happened?”

“I…” Amami ran his hands through his hair as he stared at the floor. His hands were still shaking. “I don’t know.” He answered honestly. Ouma tilted his head.

“Don’t tell me you’re _that_ scared about the meteorites. You’re better than that.”

Amami frowned. “What meteorites?”

Ouma narrowed his eyes, as if his suspicions were confirmed. “Amami-chan, what did the flashback lights show you?”

“I...” his voice broke, confusion setting in. Most of it was gone already, but some images are burned in his mind better than the others, making him feel like his blood was turning to ice. “I think I saw Akamatsu-san…”

Ouma frowned. “Akamatsu-chan?”

Amami nodded desperately as he resisted the urge to claw at his hair. “She’s hanged… by the neck… in her room…”

“ _What?”_

Amami’s breathing was turning ragged again as his eyes flitted across the room. “I-I… I didn’t… It’s all my fault… I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have---“

“Amami-chan. Calm down.” Ouma said carefully, putting his hands in front of him, as if he was approaching a wild animal. “ _Calm down._ Akamatsu-chan, she’s…” Ouma licked his lips. “She’s dead. Nothing we could do about that. So come on. How dare you make your Supreme Leader worry for you?” The last part was uttered good-naturedly, as if to soothe the tension. “What a useless underling you are.”

Amami let out a shaky breath. He grasped at Ouma’s hand, grounding himself back to the present, as he laughed a laugh that was all nerves and no humor. “You’re right. I’m sorry… Ouma-kun.”

“Does this happen often?”

Amami shook his head. “I’ve had memory lapses, flashbacks… headaches… but none of them were _this_ bad.” He confessed. “I didn’t want to talk about it---“

“Understandable. I wouldn’t want to talk about it either.” Ouma replied. He bit his thumbnail, deep in thought. Amami recognized the look of frustration on his face: Ouma simply hated not knowing. “It seems to have been caused by your exposure to the flashback light. I’m sorry, if I had known…” he trailed off, guilt edging at his tone.

Amami shook his head. “There was no way you could have seen that coming. Though in the future, can we not do this again?” he chuckled nervously. “I still don’t get what a flashback light is, but I think I’m better off not fully understanding.”

Ouma smiled softly. “Noted. Do you think it’s a side effect of you being revived?” he seemed to be asking himself more than he was asking the adventurer. He was no doubt already theorizing about what could have possibly caused this oddity, and why it was only happening to Amami. “But why? What’s _wrong_ with you?”

Amami made a faint smile. “Me being a dead man walking not wrong enough for you?”

Ouma shook his head. “No, it’s just that…” he hesitated. “Did the memories you saw make you any more eager to kill? We both know Monokuma already wants you to do that.”

Amami considered it, but he shook his head. “Not exactly. I just felt… awful.” He replied. “You know what, maybe it’s just psychological. Maybe I’m going crazy.” He said with a sigh. “The more I think about it, the more it sounds stupid that the ringleader could mess with me to this extent---“

“Oh, believe me, anything’s possible.” Ouma replied easily. “This Killing Game has a weird kind of logic, Amami-chan. Let’s not forget you’re supposed to be dead. Monokuma said that the transfer student would be just like any other student, though. You’re not supposed to be special, in any way. With the way they revealed your talent haphazardly, it seems that you _were,_ but not anymore. So why are they doing this to you?” Ouma’s eyes widened as if he had a realization. “No… maybe it was something they couldn’t help with.”

“I’m sorry?”

Ouma suddenly smiled innocently as he put his hands behind his back. “Do you think maybe… you’re _malfunctioning_ , Amami-chan?”

Amami blinked. _What?_ “I’m not a robot.” He muttered.

Ouma cocked an eyebrow.  “We don’t know that.”

 _Indeed, we don’t._ Amami felt his mouth go dry. He didn’t want to think about it. He washed the bile off his mouth, walking outside the bathroom. Ouma followed after him, sitting down on his bed, his eyes wandering around the room. Amami wondered if Ouma was remembering the time he tore this room apart looking for clues. Everything was fixed and orderly now, compared to the time the adventurer had reopened it.

Suddenly, Ouma asked. “Amami-chan, when were you revived, exactly?”

“Hm?” Amami hummed, as he sat down on the bed beside him. “The morning the starvation motive was announced.”

“So they wanted the free kill, huh?”

Amami was a little taken aback, but after a moment he smiled. “You really have no tact, do you, Ouma-kun?”

Ouma smiled sweetly. “You noticed it just now? Does it bother you, Amami-chan?”

He seemed to ponder it for a moment, before he replied. “I actually think it’s quite refreshing. Nobody ever admitted they wanted to me to die to save you guys, I _had_ to be the one to open up the idea and that’s… kinda awkward?”

“It must have been.” Ouma mused as he looked around again. “I wonder how Angie-chan revived you. How exactly the ritual happened. Step by step.”

“I don’t know how she did it.” Amami admitted. “All I remember was waking up in her research lab. Whenever I asked, she simply said that Atua delivered me to her. Whatever that means.”

Ouma’s eyes narrowed, and Amami could almost see the gears turning in his head. He whispered, almost to himself. “ _What_ are you?”

Amami felt uneasy. He placed his hands on his hips and sighed. “Here’s a brilliant idea: why don’t we talk about something else? Something that won’t contribute to my ever worsening existential crisis.”

Ouma cocked an eyebrow. “Does it bother you?”

“ _Yes!_ ” As soon as he said it, he bit his tongue. He replied too quickly, his voice strangled and uneven. He took a deep breath. “I mean… yes. I would really appreciate it if we move on from this topic, Ouma-kun.” He stared into his eyes. “ _Please._ ”

“Hm~” Ouma hummed, and for a moment Amami feared he wasn’t going to let it go. But finally, he grinned. “Okay! If that’s what my beloved Amami-chan wants! So, what are going to talk about then?”

Amami frowned. It wasn’t the first time Ouma addressed him that way. “Are you sure you should be calling me that?”

Ouma blinked, as if he was confused. “Call you what?”

“ _Beloved Amami-chan._ ”

Now Ouma looked even more confused. “Um… yeah? I can call you whatever the hell I want. Does it bother you, Amami-chan? Gosh, you’re so whiny today. Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.”

“No, I don’t mind. It’s just that…” Amami hesitated, wondering how to phrase this. “I don’t want to get into on Momota-kun’s bad side is all.” The Ultimate Astronaut was already visibly uncomfortable with the fact that Ouma was spending a lot of time with him. In fact, he had seen him tense up momentarily when the Supreme Leader chose to sit beside him on at the breakfast table. Amami knew Momota and Ouma have a thing going on and while he doesn’t think Momota is the type to hold a grudge based on irrational jealousy, he wasn’t about to press his luck.

“Why would the idiot astronaut give a shit what I call my underlings?” There was a bitterness in his tone that wasn’t there yesterday. Before Amami could comment on it, Ouma continued. “Because that’s what you are. My underling.”

Amami hesitated. That small bit in the beginning bothered him a little bit. _Why would Momota-kun give a shit? Because he_ obviously _likes you. And he’ll probably be bothered that you sound like you’re openly flirting with somebody else._ He wanted to say, but it wasn’t his place to spill Momota’s guts like that. He sighed. _How troublesome._

Ouma was still talking. “And any good Supreme Leader cares about his subordinates! I am _the_ Ultimate Supreme Leader! So of course I love my underlings!”

Amami decided to humor him. “All ten thousand of them?”

Ouma grinned proudly. “All ten thousand _and one_ of them!”

“Oh?” Amami cocked an eyebrow, noticing that small detail. “I thought it’d be ten thousand and _two._ So you don’t consider Momota-kun as one of your underlings, then?”

Ouma blinked, his proud grin breaking. And for some reason, his cheeks seem to turn a little pink. “He…” he trailed off. “He’s not underling material.” He decided.

“Well, what is he then?” Amami teased.

“It doesn’t matter! Annoy me one more time and I’ll replace you!” Ouma replied childishly, and Amami had to smile. It was obviously a fangless threat, especially since there wasn’t any replacements to be had in this Killing Game. But he nodded along, indulging him. After a moment though, Ouma looked up at the clock, the childlike features of his expression melting into a look of seriousness and concentration. When he talked again, he was like a different person altogether. “Okay, enough playing around. Amami-chan, we need to work. Are you feeling better?”

You know you screwed up badly if the guy who suffered through a starvation motive, drank an entire bottle of poison, and powered through a horrible fever in the last 48 hours were asking you if _you_ were feeling better.

Amami sighed. “Yes. Let’s see what you have in mind.”

 

* * *

 

“What do you think about the flashback light, Saihara?” Harukawa asked as they walked out of the dining hall. They were on the way to the library, catching up on their postponed plans from last night. Breakfast took way longer than expected, with the issue of the flashback light making everyone feel uncomfortable. Theories were exchanged: what happened to the outside world? Why did the Gofer Project fail? Are the meteorites still falling outside? Is this school some kind of shelter? Or was that funeral memory real, and they were all long dead? The last one should have sounded way too illogical and absurd, but it made Saihara’s skin crawl, especially because the dead already walked among them.

He sighed. Meteorites falling from the sky… The Gofer Project… it all sounded crazy. Unlikely. Nonsensical. But so were talking stuffed bears and bringing the dead back to life. “I… I don’t know.” He confessed.

“Don’t worry about it.” Momota told them, although he seemed pretty worried himself. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I’m sure there’s an explanation to all of this. We just haven’t thought about it yet.”

Saihara shifted his weight uneasily. “Do you think Amami-kun will be alright?”

To this, Momota frowned. Amami had made quite a scene when he left in the middle of breakfast, looking quite shaken up. Saihara was surprised to see genuine, unadulterated concern flash in Ouma’s eyes, but of course the Supreme Leader played it off as nothing, giving the group a devious grin as he excused himself, saying he was just going to check up on his coward of an underling.

Momota eyes had followed him until he was gone. The astronaut looked like he was ready to follow after the two as well, but the panic and chaos that had risen up in their group kept him in place. He took charge, telling everyone to stand down, that there is no need to worry and everything will be okay. That they’ll be able to get out of here somehow and fulfill their promise to Akamatsu, even if they were already four people short. He sounded so sure of himself that Saihara felt determination swell in his heart. Momota really had a way with inspiring people. He could only hope he got through the others as well.

“Amami will be fine.” Momota finally replied. “He’s got Kokichi with him.”

Saihara was briefly reminded of their conversation last night in front of Ouma’s room. The overflowing trust Momota had for the Supreme Leader. Whatever happened in the love hotel (something Ouma did, something connected to the poison bottles in his lab, because why would Momota glare at those otherwise? Did he… _no._ Ouma won’t do something like that… would he?), it created bond between the two. Something undeniable, even though Momota tried his best to do just that: deny it.

It was so strange to think about Momota having feelings for the Supreme Leader. It just seemed so _weird._ But then again, didn’t he tell Harukawa last night when they were waiting for the astronaut to arrive? Under what circumstances is liking someone _not_ weird?

“Isn’t that what’s concerning?” Harukawa muttered. “I don’t think he’ll be fine if that asshole is going to follow him around. And what’s with that ‘underling’ comment? Now that Gokuhara won’t fall to his tricks anymore, he’s going to recruit Amami?”

“Amami isn’t a pushover, nor is he easily manipulated. If he’s spending time with Kokichi, he’s spending time with him of his own free will.” Momota told her, as if he’s spent a lot of time thinking about it. “So don’t worry about it, Harumaki!”

Now Harukawa looked annoyed. “Why are you always defending him?”

“W-Well!” Saihara said suddenly, because this conversation doesn’t seem to be going in a pleasant direction. “Ouma-kun and Amami-kun seem to be good friends, so I think it’s better that Ouma-kun followed after him. Either way, let’s hurry up to the library, shall we?”

Harukawa gave him a look, but she nodded. Momota seemed like he was going to say something, but thought better of it. The three of them continued on their way to their destination, walking down the stairs to the basement. As soon as the stagnant air hit his skin Saihara felt his muscles tense, anxiety rippling in his gut, but he did his best to stay calm.

Ever since the first trial ended, Saihara has been uncomfortable about visiting the library. He tried to avoid it as much as he could. Sure, he loved books. Mystery novels, in particular. But it’s not like the library was any functional as a reading area, since it was already so dusty and worn. Not to mention that it reminded him of his failure both as a detective and a friend--- the guilt of pulling the ringleader deductions and not realizing Akamatsu’s plan any sooner. Everyone else had been kind enough to tell him none of it was his fault, but he knew they were wrong. He could have prevented it. He could have done _something._

“Shuuichi, you okay?” Momota asked as he slowed down his step to match his. Harukawa, who led in front eager to get this over with, glanced at the two of them, but didn’t say a word.

“Yes.” He replied too quickly as they walked down the stairs, hands reaching up to touch his hat and cover his face, to no avail. Why can’t he get rid of the damn habit already? It was terribly frustrating.

Momota patted his back. “We all miss Akamatsu. But it’s neither your fault nor hers. It’s Monokuma’s. We’ll fulfill our promise, Shuuichi. We’ll all get out of here.” Momota said, repeating the sentiment he had relayed to the group earlier. Saihara nodded, already feeling better. His words carried a certain weight to them that wasn’t there before. As if he was certain, more than ever, that they’ll be able to get out of here. That it wasn’t just a distant dream, nor an empty promise.

Yes, they’ll make it out. And yes, Momota may have changed, but he’s still the Momota that always knew what to say, what Saihara needed to hear. There will be no more corpses in this school. They won’t let anyone kill any of their friends ever again.

They opened the library and stepped inside. Was that Saihara’s imagination, or did he hear shuffling from around the corner?  Just as they approached the hidden door at the end of the library, Saihara’s eyes instinctively glanced to the side--- and he almost had a heart attack.

Amami was lying down on the floor, in the same position they had found him so long ago, a shot put ball beside him. An amused Ouma was standing up next to him, enthusiastically spilling what looks like strawberry syrup all over his head, smiling merrily, like a child playing pretend.

“--- and then it hit you and bam!” He giggled, throwing the empty syrup bottle down on the floor. “You’re _dead_!”

 

* * *

 

 

“So.” Harukawa started, looking exasperated as she stared at Amami and Ouma, who were now both sitting down obediently on the floor. Ouma had a wide mischievous grin on his face while Amami looked almost amused as he tried to get the sticky syrup off from his hair with the wet wipes Saihara had brought from the warehouse. “What. In the hell. Were you two doing, exactly?”

Momota had the same question in mind. They almost looked like they were playing, but it was such a morbid scene to recreate, even if they did use a very un-blood-like hue of pink with the strawberry syrup. Ouma said something about Amami helping him gather more information, but the first trial was already long past over. It was ancient history. Momota sighed as he leaned down and cleaned the syrup on the floor with the wipes as best as he could--- Amami helped him, but Ouma was just as remorseless as ever, childishly refusing to clean his own mess. Instead, he pulled out his tongue and lolled it at Harukawa.

“None of your business, killer girl. Amami-chan and I am are just having some fun!”

Amami at least had the manners to give them an apologetic look, but he didn’t answer Harukawa’s question either. “I’m sorry, we didn’t think people would come in at this time of the day.”

“Yeah, yeah!” Ouma nodded eagerly. “For some reason, people didn’t like hanging around places where we found bodies! Like, you know… the library, the gym--- ha! I bet nobody wants to go to the séance room anymore either, right? Wherever the hell that is.”

Momota remembered what he told Saihara yesterday: _I’ll bet you an Astro cake he’ll be back to terrorizing people in the morning._ And he was right. He didn’t know if he should be happy about that, honestly. Because an Ouma who’s ‘terrorizing people’ is an Ouma who’s wearing his mask. At the very least, Momota is thankful that the Supreme Leader seemed to be feeling well. Momota wanted to touch his forehead and check, but Ouma wouldn’t appreciate that. Not in front of the others, at least. He seemed to be able to walk without assistance now, though Momota noticed he tries not to make any sudden movements. He’s still recovering.

Saihara sighed patiently, as if he was dealing with a stubborn child. Ever since the detective had figured out Momota and Ouma’s connection, he seemed to be making an effort to be more understanding of the Supreme Leader’s antics. “People don’t usually like being reminded of death and murder, Ouma-kun.”

“That makes you guys big pussies! Your lives must be sooo boring! Man, when I heard that Shinguuji-chan was a crazy little psycho, I almost felt bad for missing his trial. I bet it was so good---“

The astronaut sighed, resigned. “Kokichi…” he muttered. A warning. Because they both know he’s lying. Ouma wouldn’t have enjoyed Shinguuji’s trial at all, because he despised murder. In fact, Momota had a feeling that he would feel _absolutely sick_ through it all, with the way Shinguuji had acted through the end. While lying had a lot of advantages in this Killing Game (as he had found out when he dealt with Monokuma last night), Momota would really like it if Ouma stopped lying about his feelings all the time.

Ouma’s expression blanked for a moment, before he stood up and walked toward Momota with a spring in his step. He smiled, innocently. “Yes, my beloved Momota-chan?”

Momota sputtered a little bit from the affectionate nickname. Even though he knew, to his chagrin, that it was something Ouma called Amami and Saihara often, it didn’t keep his heart from skipping a beat.

“Don’t call me that.” He managed to choke out. _It’s bad for my heart._

“But I want to call my boyfriend something nice! Ooooh, should I call you Kai-chan?”

“B-Boyfriend?” Saihara asked as his eyes widened, sounding alarmed.

“BOYFRIEND?!” Momota exclaimed.  

Amami suddenly started laughing hard.

“What’s with the violent reactions? It’s obviously another lie.” Harukawa said coolly.

“Nishishi! Did I get caught?” Ouma said as he put his hands behind his head, grinning like a little daredevil. Was it Momota’s imagination, or was his smile just a tad bit forced? Before Momota could think about it, he already changed the subject. “Anyway! What are you guys doing here?” he asked, putting a finger on his cheek innocently. “Especially you, Saihara-chan! Looking for stuff to put on your scrapbook or something? Ooooh, you can take pictures and put cute little notes like “this is the spot where my girlfriend killed Amami-kun”! That’s fun!”

Saihara looked uncomfortable. Of course, Ouma is a pro at making people feel uncomfortable. Momota wished he’d stop doing that, honestly, but it’s already a character trait, almost. One of the things that made Ouma himself. Even so, he can’t just let him diss his sidekick. He took a deep breath and gave him a look. “Kokichi, shut up.”

“Aww! Momota-chan is defending his sidekick from evil old me! How sweet!”

“Of course, I’m going to defend Shuuichi! You’re being insufferable! And just plain mean!” Momota pointed out.

“Of course I’m mean! I’m Ouma Kokichi, Ultimate Supreme Leader of _evil_!”

Momota sighed heavily. So that’s how it is. Ouma Kokichi would remain as evil, mean, and obnoxious Ouma Kokichi, as long as he’s within the bounds of the Killing Game. Momota knew him enough to know that he hated showing vulnerabilities, and those precious moments they share behind closed doors were there simply because nobody was looking. Momota felt a bit of pride that he was the one Ouma was willing to show his true self to, but it would really be great if he could get along with his sidekicks as well. Unfortunately, Momota knew that was already too much to ask for. The same way that Momota was unwilling to drop his hero act, Ouma wasn’t willing to drop his villain act either. Momota… somehow understood that.

Harukawa tapped her foot impatiently. “Saihara, ignore him. You _know_ we came here for more important reasons. The card key.” She reminded him with a small nudge. The detective seems to realize she was right, and nodded eagerly as he walked toward the bookshelf at the far end of the library.

“Card key? What card key?” Ouma asked as his eyes widened in interest, tiptoeing to see what Saihara was holding, but Harukawa held a hand between them as a way of threat.

“Saihara, do it, quickly. I’ll hold this bastard off.” She told him, her red eyes never leaving Ouma’s for one second. “Like hell we’ll let you get a look at the motive.”

“Motive?” Ouma looked even more interested. “I wanna see! I wanna see! Please, Harumaki-chan! I’m not going to do anything, I promise!”

Now, Harukawa looked even more exasperated. “ _Don’t_ \--- call me that!”

Tears formed along the edge of his eyes. “B-But… I just wanna see. Why are you being so mean to me? Waaaaaah! Amami onii-chan!” He yelled as he cried and ran towards Amami, bawling against his chest.

Amami simply chuckled as he patted his hair and muttered. “There, there.”

Momota raised an eyebrow. Since when did Ouma call the adventurer ‘Amami onii-chan’? Ouma referred to him as his underling earlier, too. Amami spent all yesterday morning nursing him to health, it seems. _They’re really close… I guess._ Why the hell does that bother Momota so much? Well, sure, Ouma was obviously fake crying again, but Momota wouldn’t mind it one bit if he ran to cry on his chest instead. Not that he was jealous or anything… because he’s definitely not! Not at all!

“Momota-kun, can you lend me a hand?” Saihara suddenly asked, distracting him from his thoughts.

“Oh, sure.” Momota replied, as he helped him ease the shelf out of its place to reveal the hidden door. Saihara looked a little nervous as he walked closer to the scanner. Ouma was still crying in the background. Saihara placed the card key in its slot and swiped it.

They waited. Nothing happened.

Ouma suddenly stopped bawling, sounding disappointed. “Wow, how anticlimactic. I thought we’re finally going to see what’s behind there.”

Harukawa glanced behind her as she lowered her guard. “No luck?”

Saihara placed his covered his mouth with his hand, looking thoughtful.

Momota shrugged. “Eh, sounds like our hunch is wrong. No big deal! I wonder what it does open though, since it doesn’t seem to be this place…” he trailed off, because then he realized that Ouma was staring pointedly at him. He frowned, not sure what he was getting at. The Supreme Leader glanced at Saihara meaningfully, and then back at him again, with an expression of mild urgency. But what would he want from Saihara…?

Suddenly, he understood. _The card key. I_ want _the card key._

For a moment, Momota was conflicted. The group had unanimously agreed for Saihara to keep it, after all. But then he realized that if he was going to take the card key, this is the only chance he’s going to get. He believed in Ouma enough to trust he would _never_ kill anyone for _any_ motive, he’s just not that kind of guy. He wanted to get the card key to investigate, no doubt. To help everyone get out, because he cares for everyone. He really, honestly does.

_If there was anything I could do to help him…_

Momota made up his mind. He cleared his throat. “So… I guess this thing is basically useless, huh? I mean, even if someone had this, it’s pointless if we don’t know what door it’s going to open.” He said as he, in a careful yet nonchalant manner, pried the card key from Saihara’s fingers. The detective frowned as he stared at it, looking distracted.

“I suppose so.” He replied.

“So! You mind if I keep this?” Momota asked. Saihara’s eyes widened, and he actually looked utterly _relieved_ for a moment, before he composed himself.

“Uh, Momota-kun, are you sure?” he asked, but he his earlier expression already betrayed his thoughts. He would be glad to have the responsibility of safekeeping the motive taken from him.

Momota almost felt bad that he’s taking advantage of his sidekick’s weakness. Regardless, he nodded. “Yeah, sure. This thing is garbage anyways.” He risked a glance at Ouma whose lilac eyes were sparkling approvingly, as he slipped the card key into his jacket’s pocket.

He almost wanted to smile. _It’s a date._ For better or worse, Ouma is going to meet him in private later. He probably shouldn’t feel so happy about that.

Harukawa sighed. “What a waste of time. Let’s just go. I want to be done here already.”

Translation: I want to get away from Ouma already.

“You’re going already? But you just came here! I’m sure you guys wouldn’t mind spending some more time with us, _riiiiiight_? It’s not like you guys have anything to do. We’re going to check out Amami-chan’s lab after we clean up! It’s going to be awesome!”

That caught Saihara’s attention. “Amami-kun’s lab? As the Ultimate Adventurer?”

Amami smiled uneasily. “Well, we’re not really sure if it’s even open yet---“

“Boo! Amami-chan, have some faith!”

Harukawa sighed and snapped. “No.”

Saihara glanced uneasily at Harukawa. He hesitated for a moment, before he addressed Ouma. “Well, Ouma-kun… if it is open, I’d be very interested---“

“Saihara!” Harukawa hissed, obviously not wanting to interact anymore with the Supreme Leader. Saihara’s shoulders tensed like a frightened animal.

Ouma whistled. “Geez. Calm down, Harumaki-chan. What, is it that time of the month for you? If you don’t want me around, just tell me. Don’t harass my poor beloved Saihara-chan.”

Saihara squeaked. “I-I’m not… She’s not…”

Harukawa looked livid. Ouma simply shrugged as he skipped over to Amami and hugged him from behind. “Suit yourself, peasants. Piggy back ride, Amami-chan!”

Amami looked amused as he knelt down to let him ride him his back. He stood up and staggered a bit, before finally regaining his balance. The adventurer gave them all an apologetic smile, before he strode off towards the exit, leaving the three of them in silence.

Saihara cleared his throat. “Well, that was… interesting.”

“I don’t get it.” Harukawa said in frustration. “How could Amami _stand_ that guy?”

“Well, they seem to get along rather well.” Saihara prompted, to which the assassin huffed in response.

“Yeah, if letting Ouma trample all over him was the definition of getting along.”

Momota remained silent as he eyed the leftover wipes, the empty bottle and the shot put ball that the two left on the floor. They didn’t even bother taking it back with them. What they did seemed rather sudden and weird and really, really morbid, but if Momota knew one thing about Ouma in their week-long imprisonment in the love hotel, it’s that Ouma never does anything randomly.

“I wonder…” he murmured.

That was when his eyes wandered to the shelves, the part where Saihara and Akamatsu placed their hidden camera, in particular. In that spot the books were rather disheveled, as if it was hastily removed and replaced. The titles were all over the place. Some were even upside down. The astronaut walked closer. In the darkness behind the books, something glinted. He pulled a few books out so he could see it better. There was a black cloth there, covering a familiarly shaped object. Some parts of it poked out--- a brass handle, a cylindrical glass tube… it was turned off at the moment, but Momota could tell.

It was the Bugvac.

“Momota-kun, something the matter?” Saihara asked, concerned. Momota hastily put the books back in place.

“Nothing!” he replied. “I just… thought I saw a book I’d like to read.”

“The books here are all already worn and moldy. I don’t think you’d like to read them much.” Harukawa said. Momota shrugged.

“Yeah.” He replied, but his thoughts were already elsewhere. “My thoughts exactly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently Momota isn't underling material.... 'Cause he's a partner. Lol 
> 
> I have a bit of a writer's block, so the next chapter might take a while. Still, I hope you guys enjoyed this! :D 
> 
> ITS A DATE! AAAAAAAAAHHHH


	8. “I’m the Supreme Leader of evil. What did you expect?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amami and Ouma starts their investigation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I’m sorry my notes are always long af, I swear I just get excited talking about some stuff hahahahah)
> 
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOMO-CHAN!!!!
> 
> So, something to get out of the way: I HATE writing and reading scenes rewritten directly from canon, it was just so boring! So even if I didn’t write it, please assume that Saihara and Harukawa’s talk about “liking someone” in Chapter 4 Day 1 happened when they were waiting for Momota to show up (though he never showed up because *cough cough* He was cuddling sick Ouma). And later in this chapter, Momota’s training session in Chapter 4 Day 2 (where Maki talked about her past) still happened, I just didn’t write it because… I. hate. rewriting. scenes. 
> 
> Shoutout to the commenter who decided to call themselves “hello”! I always see you commenting and supporting my fics (THANK YOU!!!) and I just wanna commend you for your observations! You’re the first one to mention a small detail (small, yes, but it’s a big foreshadowing to this AU’s lore) that most people seem to glaze over. I won’t tell you what it is, so have fun theorizing! XD
> 
> This is betaread by Comatose_Overdose as usual. Love you, Zay!

When Ouma came back to his room holding what seems to be a bunched black cloth in his arms, Amami was confused. The Supreme Leader simply pushed the bundle towards him, commanding him to carry it towards their destination. The bundle was rather heavy, but Amami could carry it with little effort. It seems that the cloth (His _cape_ , according to Ouma. Ouma had a cape? What?) was used as a makeshift bag for… whatever the hell these items were. He could make out the shape of the Bugvac, but there was something else inside as well, something round and heavy.

The realization hit Amami like a pile of bricks. _A shot put ball._

“Where are we going?” Amami asked, although he already had a pretty good idea where.

“The library!” Ouma replied enthusiastically. “Let’s go, Amami-chan!”

The trip was a short one. Ouma was pretty much skipping ahead the whole time, looking evidently excited. Amami was following, albeit hesitantly.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Amami asked.

“I’m pretty sure the ringleader already has a clue we’re up to something, with you coming to my room to work together, and all. Unless they’re really, _really_ stupid. So I thought we’d be able to gather more accurate information this way.” Ouma easily replied, before glancing back with a look that was almost apologetic. “I realize this isn’t the most comfortable situation for Amami-chan, but I really need your input here, so suck it up.”

“Right…” Amami replied. They arrived in the library a few minutes later. Amami placed the bundle down, unwrapping the items inside. He was greeted with the Bugvac (which he turned on at once) and the shot put ball, along with a couple of items he had not expected: a notebook, a pen, a bottle of water, some strawberry syrup (for some reason), three envelopes, a picture of the library from above, a green disposable camera, a small remote-like sensor… His eyes widened. “These are…”

“Evidence. The most I could gather.” Ouma replied as he sat on the floor next to him. He took the pen and played with it on his fingers. “Don’t worry. That shot put isn’t the same one that hit you. I don’t know where the real one went. Read the notes in the notebook. I tried to summarize the case as best as I could.” He stood up and pulled something small from his pocket: a digital stopwatch. He must have gotten it from the warehouse. He smiled cheerfully. “Now, please excuse me.”

Amami tried to absorb the contents of the notebook as much as he could, but with Ouma walking and buzzing about, murmuring under his breath, it was a little hard to focus. He kept looking back at the stopwatch, resetting it over and over again, and it was only after Amami had finished the notes and understood the case that he understood what he was doing: he was timing himself according to the camera intervals, trying to see for himself if it was possible to come in, kill someone, and get out within thirty seconds. By the time he had finished every possible route, he was already tired. Amami frowned. “Ouma-kun, don’t push yourself---“

“Yes, _mom._ ” Ouma replied sarcastically as he sat down and took the bottle of water, gulping it down. Sweat beaded on his forehead but he used his scarf to pat it dry.

“Did you find anything out?” Amami asked.

Ouma shrugged. “Going in and out from the front entrance is pretty much impossible. The rear entrance is more likely. Someone as quick as Harukawa-chan or Chabashira-chan could pull it off no problem.”

Amami remembered the first time he had found out Harukawa was the Ultimate Assassin. He was shocked, to say the least. He had always known there was something off with her when he first met her, as she seemed way too guarded to be a simple Child Caregiver, but an _assassin._ That was… something else.

“Do you think Harukawa-san could be the ringleader?” He found himself asking. It won’t be the first time that she tried to fool them.

“Hmmmm…” Ouma hummed as he considered it. Finally, he sighed. “I hate her. I _wish_ she was the ringleader but… I think it’s unlikely. The only impressive thing about her is that she’s her own talent through and through. But in the grand scheme of things, an assassin is merely a pawn. They kill upon _orders._ Even so, I’m not taking her off the realm of possibilities.”

“Harukawa-san seemed to have a perfectly solid alibi, though. She was in the Game room with Yumeno-san and Angie-san.” Amami noted. “Chabashira-san too, seems to be with Momota-kun the entire time.”

“Yep.” Ouma replied, popping the ‘p’. “Gonta was in the AV room, and he didn’t leave from inside the whole time. So his alibi is well accounted for too. The most suspicious people left were Iruma-chan, Shirogane-chan, and Kiiboy.”

Amami frowned. “But… wasn’t Iruma-san in the dining hall, according to Shinguuji-kun?”

“Yeah, making a ‘remote controlled gadget’, so he said.” Ouma replied. “If there’s one thing I know about mad scientists, it’s to never underestimate them. Iruma-chan may be a wimp, but she’s a genius. She said something about pulling an all-nighter for the cameras, but honestly? Those cameras were _nothing._ I could make those modifications myself. Either she lied because I was pushing her so hard on the trial, or she was making something else.”

Amami cocked an eyebrow. “You act as if she isn’t the only mad scientist you’ve known.”

Ouma grinned. “Of course she isn’t. My second in command was fucking _brilliant_ , Amami-chan. Though he was more into computers than sex toy production.” He smiled fondly for a moment, before his expression hardened with concentration once again. “Moving on, Shirogane-san claimed she left for the bathroom… but there wasn’t really anyone who could vouch for what she did in that small time frame. Then there’s Kiibo, who said he was in his room the whole time…” his voice trailed off.

“What about Saihara-kun?” Amami hesitated. “I mean, I know he’s close to Akamatsu-san but…”

“I don’t think Saihara-chan is the ringleader.” Ouma replied easily. “I imagine you’ve seen how he is in the class trial? He’s the practically the star of the show. It wouldn’t make sense for the ringleader to lead us to the correct answers time and time again, not to mention the ringleader reveal for that would be extremely boring and _lame._ No--- Saihara-chan is the weak, developing hero that people would be rooting for. It wouldn’t make sense for him to suddenly become a villain.”

Amami frowned. Something about what Ouma just said was… odd. He said it as if there would be _people_ rooting for Saihara. As if the Killing Game has some sort of storyline. _The star of the show… huh._

Ouma was already moving on. “I looked around earlier for other secret doors here inside the library, there doesn’t seem to be any. So, aside from using the front and rear entrances…” He suddenly said as he stood up and pointed at the shelf that was covering the hidden door. “That hidden door is the only other way in.”

 _Hm._ Amami absentmindedly fiddled with his hair. “But Akamatsu-san and Saihara-kun swore the ringleader couldn’t have hidden in there.” he replied with a frown. “Something about putting dust in the card reader---”

“Yes, but that’s assuming _this_ was the only entrance to that hidden room.” Ouma replied, as he bit his thumbnail. “What if it wasn’t? What if there’s another way in?”

Amami looked back on the notebook in his hand. “That would incriminate Kiibo-kun the most, since he was missing in action the entire time.”

Ouma hesitated. “That robot… has always seemed strange to me.”

Amami was reminded of the whiteboard he had in Ouma’s room. Kiibo’s picture was labeled with one word: _Weird._  He couldn’t help but feel a little curious. “Why?”

Ouma chewed on his lip. His eyes narrowed, looking a little distracted. “I… I’m not sure. He just seemed… off.” _Off._ Such a vague word. “Well, he was robot, for one. Like Monokuma. Like the Monokubs. That’s enough to feel weird around him, right?” He sounded like he was convincing himself.

“That’s… not the real reason, is it?” Amami prompted. Ouma shook his head, refusing to say much more. Amami stifled a smile. “Are you a robophobe, Ouma-kun?” The question was teasing. Ouma’s lips twitched.

“I’m the Supreme Leader of evil. What did you expect?”

They had a good laugh after that, but eventually they continued on, exchanging ideas while Ouma occasionally wrote notes down. At one point they pulled out the photos, scrutinizing everything from facial expressions to body language to order of arrival. Ouma asked him about why he was holding his monopad throughout all his photos (Amami couldn’t remember, to their disappointment) and afterwards the Supreme Leader asked him to throw the shot put as hard as he could from different spots in the library (just after a few throws, his arms already felt sore). Finally, both feeling tired from their efforts, the two of them lied down on the floor staring at the ceiling, eating strawberry syrup (it was Ouma’s idea) with their fingers.

Suddenly, Ouma muttered with a sigh. “I feel like we’ve accomplished nothing.”

Amami raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

Ouma hesitated. “What if… all this talk about alibis and stuff lead us nowhere?” He asked. “What if the ringleader had Monokuma kill you himself? Sure, it was against the rules, but they were already breaking the rules anyway.”

Amami pursed his lips. “Well, we don’t really have any other leads, do we?”

Silence. They both stared dejectedly at the ceiling, knowing that while they currently have the opportunity and the means to solve this Killing Game, it would still be a steep climb. They would have stayed there for hours if they didn’t hear Momota’s loud voice from outside. Ouma’s eyes widened as he sat up, groaning when the sudden movement made him dizzy.

“What are they doing here?” Ouma asked to nobody in particular, looking vaguely panicked as he turned the Bugvac off and immediately started wrapping the items back on his cape. Amami sat up quickly and helped him stuff the whole thing in the shelf, using the books to hide it from view.

“The shot-put!” Ouma whispered urgently. Amami’s eyes widened. There it was on the floor; they had entirely missed it. Amami was about to kick it under a stack of books but something in Ouma’s eyes sparkled mischievously as he suddenly lifted the strawberry syrup he’s been holding. “Actually, I got a better idea. Lie down.”

Amami frowned, confused. “What?”

“Lie down!”

The front door opened.

Amami swore under his breath and did as he was told. He almost felt bad for the looks in their faces when they turned around the corner.

 

* * *

 

The conversation went about as Ouma had expected, with the sweet, sweet bonus of the card key thanks to Momota. When they left the library, Ouma instructed Amami to go to the Game Room instead, so they could wait for the others to leave the area, giving them a chance to retrieve the items they stuffed in the shelf. Ouma peeked in through a small gap in the door, trying to stifle his smile the whole time, a little giddy at how well Momota was able to get the card key from Saihara. It was… impressive, to say the least.

“ _Someone_ ’s in a good mood.” Amami commented, making Ouma grin. He wasn’t just in a good mood, he was ecstatic--- he was able to secure the motive this time around.

“Can you really blame me, Amami-chan?” He asked, giggling. “It’s not every day I get ahold of something so important! I feel like it’s Christmas morning!”

“It’s not even in your hands yet.” Amami smiled fondly.

Ouma’s eyes sparkled. “It will be by tonight.”

They waited a couple more minutes until the sound of chatter and footsteps echoed in the dark hallway. There they were--- Momota, Saihara and Harukawa--- talking about where they should all hang out… Ouma briefly remembered the time when Momota told him he wanted Ouma to be his sidekick as well. He tried to imagine himself trailing after the Luminary of the Stars the way Saihara and Harukawa does, but he just couldn’t quite picture it. _Following someone just isn’t my style._ He’s the Ultimate Supreme Leader through and through. He goes by his own rules.

That didn’t mean that he didn’t wish he could spend time with Momota as easily and naturally as his two sidekicks do. If they weren’t in a Killing Game, he probably would have tried to hang out with him, but alas, there were still a lot of things he needed to do. He was a busy man, and his time was precious. He didn’t have the luxury to goof around the way most of his classmates do in their free times. The only person he really ever hung out with before was Saihara, but that was only because his talent intrigued him, and he had to admit he was a little starstruck at the prospect of befriending an actual, in-the-flesh detective. He had hopes he’ll be able to get him on his side eventually… who knew that by some strange twist of fate, it was the annoying astronaut that he’d fall head over heels for?

 _No. Bad Kokichi._ He scolded himself. _You’re not in love. Shut up._  

He hated himself for every second he spent staring at Ultimate Astronaut as he grinned and smiled, unaware that Ouma was watching him like a lovesick puppy. Well, even if the Supreme Leader couldn’t allow himself to be distracted by something like love anyway, and even if Momota wasn’t even interested in him in _that_ way, he could at least allow himself to stare, right?

The sound of the footsteps slowly became inaudible as their little group disappeared up the stairs. Beside him, Amami cleared his throat. Ouma had nearly forgotten he was there. He didn’t know what expression he had at that moment, but he immediately painted it over with his usual innocent smile.

Amami seemed to have noticed his staring nonetheless. “So.” He started.

Ouma looked back at him and tilted his head. “So what?”

Amami gave him an incredulous look for a moment, before he put his hands on his hips and sighed heavily, looking suddenly stressed. “God, you guys are painful to watch. Never mind. Let’s go get our stuff.”

“Okay!”

So they did. Amami did most of the work as usual, and Ouma kept close, leaning against him whenever he felt tired. Somehow they managed to get back to Ouma’s room without running into anyone. Though Ouma did see Iruma walking back dejectedly to her lab, looking rather unsettled. He remembered the sense of dread he felt this morning, when he saw the way she panicked after seeing the memories of the flashback light. She had been a priceless asset all throughout this Killing Game, the very person that made the Bugvac possible, and just thinking that he might just lose such an important piece… is there anything he could do about that?

The logical part of him was screaming to make use of her while he still could. The emotional part of him wanted to believe she could get over the panic, that she could somehow resist the urge to kill. But that was only wishful thinking. If the three culprits prior didn’t manage to resist it, what makes Iruma any different?

Still, he didn’t want to jump to any conclusions. He decided to try and deal with her later, see what she’s up to, maybe even pressure her to finish the electrobombs sooner. Then there’s also the blueprints of the remote control that he worked on after Momota left his room last night, a device that just might be useful if it can successfully hijack the exisals like he intended it to.

Ouma spent the rest of the morning (and a good chunk of the afternoon) walking around the school with Amami, checking out the new areas (Amami’s lab was still inaccessible, unfortunately, and the poison bottles in Saihara’s lab made Ouma feel sick) and looking for any secret passages that may lead to the room beyond the secret door of the library. It seems to be the only possible conclusion, that there must be some other way for someone to go in there, because the card scanner on the library side was apparently unused according to Saihara. Their search yielded nothing, and by the time the sun was setting Ouma felt an uneasiness rise in his chest, an entire day burned away without much progress.

“There has to be something.” Ouma murmured to himself as they sat at the open area at the back of the dining hall, overlooking the dorms and the courtyard. Amami was pouring them tea (the adventurer tried to pass it as him getting the sudden urge to do Ouma’s mandatory tea breaks but Ouma had a feeling Amami did it for his benefit. He must have been sensing the Supreme Leader’s growing agitation.) and serving some scones he found in the kitchen, while Ouma was staring into the distance, biting his thumbnail. “A secret passage. Somewhere.”

Amami took his tea and blew the steam that was coiling up from his cup, making a strained smile.  “Ouma-kun…” he warned. Ouma internally sighed. They left the Bugvac in his room earlier, charging the battery as preparation for his planned late-night activities. After a week spent away from the eyes of the audience and the ringleader, being reminded that they’re probably still watching his every move still unsettled him. He smiled innocently.

“Amami-chan, what do you think?” he suddenly asked, changing the subject.

Amami blinked. “Think about what?”

“The card key.”

Amami took a sip from his cup, gulping down the beverage thoughtfully. “I have a feeling… that whatever door that card key opens, it couldn’t be anything good.” He admitted. “But I believe that if anyone can resist a motive from Monokuma, it would be probably be you and Momota-kun.” He smiled dryly. “I mean, you two already did it before, refusing to kill each other with the Love Hotel motive.”

Ouma frowned. There was a certain sadness in the way Amami said that. That was when he realized it, the meaning behind his words. “You don’t think you can resist it, Amami-chan?”

The adventurer sighed as he set his tea down, tracing his fingers on the floral design on his teacup. He chuckled nervously. “Best not to tempt fate, don’t you think so, Ouma-kun? I’ve already been given one too many incentives to kill.”

 _Ah, right._ Amami had his motive video. Ouma shivered, remembering the gruesome imagery that came with it, the corpse of Amami’s youngest sister. With the stress of the motive video piled on top of the headaches, the memory lapses, and the existential crisis of being _already dead,_ the poor guy was probably closer to snapping than he was ever willing to admit.

“I’m glad you didn’t let Monokuma turn you into a murderer, Amami-chan.” Ouma suddenly told him, just out of genuine approval. “It’d be a shame. You’re not boring. I almost like you, as a person.”

Amami looked thoughtful for a moment, but then his lips twitched. “Not as much as you like Momota-kun.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

Amami made a small chuckle. Ouma supposed it was Amami’s way of coping, trying to divert attention from his troubles, from himself. The adventurer fiddled with the rings on his fingers absently. “So…” he prompted.

Ouma shrugged. “If you don’t want anything to do with the card key motive, I’ll understand, Amami-chan.” He replied with a smile as he started pouring sugar and milk into his tea. “But unfortunately, I can’t have you slacking off! I guess I _have_ to give you a different task to work on tonight…” he hummed as he mulled it over in his head, before frowning thoughtfully. “We don’t really have much else to do except keep looking, do we?”

Amami nodded hesitantly. “I could try…  to sneak in some of the harder places. Like you know, the girl’s restroom.”

Ouma’s eyes lit up. “Really? Can you do that, Amami-chan?” They tried to check the girl’s restroom closest to the dining hall earlier, the restroom where Shirogane _allegedly_ went at the time of the Amami’s death. But unfortunately, they were stopped by a scandalized Monophanie, yelling about how _indecent_ it was that two men are off to do _unspeakable_ things in a female restroom. Ouma didn’t even bother to waste his time and retort at whatever Monophanie was implying--- both of them simply found it rather amusing. However, Chabashira (who happened to walk over as they were being scolded by the pink monokub) looked very far from pleased.

Amami chuckled nervously as he cradled the back of his neck. “Well, I’ll try my best.”

“Don’t just _try,_ do it!” Ouma said, smiling eagerly. “If it helps, I remember one time a guy managed to get into one of the female restrooms.”

Amami looked surprised. “Really? But who…?”

“Momota-chan!” Ouma giggled, remembering the astronaut’s admission in the second class trial. “Gonta was trying to abduct everyone, see. And apparently to escape him Momota-chan hid in the weirdest places, one of which is the girl’s restroom. Maybe you can use that as an inspiration? Hint: Gonta _always_ gets worked up when it’s about his bugs. Just saying!”

Amami made a small smile. “Thank you for the advice, then. That being said, is there any place in particular you are thinking of using the card key on?”

Ouma picked a scone and started nibbling at it, giving Amami a look. “I thought you didn’t want anything to do with this motive, Amami-chan.”

Amami chuckled nervously. “Yes, but I have to admit… I can’t help being a little worried about you.”

“If you’re worried, then you must have an idea where I’m planning to use it then!”

Amami fell silent, confirming Ouma’s claim. Ouma shrugged as he looked back on his tea. There was an upright tea stalk, floating just on the surface of the water. Ouma smiled. It looks like even the fickle universe was cheering him on.

“Don’t worry, Amami-chan.” He said cheerfully. "I’ll be careful.”

Amami stifled a smile. “You better.”

 

* * *

 

Night fell.

As soon as the training (or this time, talking) session with his sidekicks ended, Momota immediately retired to his room. He kept sighing as he tapped his foot impatiently to the floor, playing with the card key on his fingers. He was sitting down on his bed, staring at the door, waiting for something--- _anything---_ to happen. From the look Ouma had given him earlier this morning, he was certain the Supreme Leader intends to get this card key sometime tonight. He just wasn’t sure around what time he should expect him. Scratch that--- maybe Ouma was expecting him to go to his room instead? Did the Supreme Leader forget? No, Ouma is meticulous, no way he could forget something so important. As Momota waited, he could feel anxiety bubbling in his gut, thinking about what lies ahead, wondering what horrors they could possibly uncover with this motive. He could feel his gut clench, his chest tighten--- wait, this isn’t from worry, no, _fuck---_

Momota doubled over as he coughed hard, covering his mouth as blood seeped from his fingers once again. He cursed under his breath. It didn’t feel quite as painful as before thanks to the painkillers, but seeing that there was even more blood now than before (the crimson stained his shirt, much to his irritation) made panic rise in his senses.

 _I’m losing time._ As soon as he thought that, he scolded himself. _No, Kaito. You’re not going to die. You’re going to get out of here, and you’re going to get medical attention. You’re going to get to space someday. You’re not going to die. You’re not going to die. You’re_ not _going to die…_

As days passed, that mantra was slowly feeling more and more like a lie.

It was then that he heard a faint, familiar clicking sound by the door. Momota immediately recognized it as the sound of lock picks scraping against the inside of the keyhole. _Shit, he’s here._ Momota glanced down at himself. He didn’t want Ouma to see how bad his illness had gotten. The astronaut hurriedly shrugged off his jacket and took off his bloody shirt, wiping his hands on it as best as he could, kicking the offending piece of fabric under the bed and scrambling over to the closet to get a new one---

Suddenly, the door opened, and a grinning Ouma Kokichi stood right there, balled fists in front of him eagerly, grinning at him with enthusiasm practically _glowing_ in his eyes. “Momota-chan~! Let’s go on a _date_ !” he said childishly, in a tone that was borderline teasing. But as soon as he saw Momota still half-naked with one of his arms entangled on a clean shirt, his lilac eyes widened and he _squeaked_ , stepping back and shutting the door close as if it burned him.

Silence. Momota blinked, weirded out.

 _Okay… what the fuck just happened?_ The astronaut almost wanted to laugh at how comical the scene was, because it was almost as if Ouma had forgotten that he needed to _step inside_ first before closing the door. As soon as Momota managed to change into a clean _non-bloody_ shirt, pulled his jacket back on and washed his hands clean, he walked over and peered outside, only to see the Supreme Leader curled up in a ball beside the door, face buried in his knees, ears slightly flushed. _Does he still have a fever? I thought he’s already feeling better._

Momota frowned. “Kokichi? Are you feeling alright?”

“Y-Yep!” Ouma immediately replied as he lifted his face, staring at Momota with an almost _flustered_ expression. _Almost_ , because it didn’t take long for that expression to dissipate, as he seemed to regain his composure. He huffed as he stood up and brushed the dust off his clothes. “Why would I _not_ feel alright? I feel perfectly fine! It’s totally Momota-chan’s fault! Geez, don’t scare me like that!”

“Wait, _I_ scared you? I wasn’t even doing anything! I was just changing my shirt!” he replied defensively. The Supreme Leader rolled his eyes as he lightly pushed him away, taking the Bugvac from where it was sitting beside him on the floor and walking inside nonchalantly as if he owned the place.

“Momota-chan should stop flaunting his non-existent abs.” The Supreme Leader quipped. Momota gasped in indignation, as he lifted his shirt up again immediately.

“They’re _not_ non-existent! Look!”

Immediately Ouma covered his face, his cheeks turning pink. “My eyes! My virgin eyes! I feel so _violated_! Waaaaaaaaahhhh----“

It was Momota’s turn to roll his eyes at the Supreme Leader’s antics as he pulled it back down, sitting down at the edge of his bed. “Shut up, drama queen.” He scolded. “It’s the middle of the night. Someone might hear.”

Ouma’s suddenly ceased his bawling as he gave Momota a deadpan stare. “Why? Does the great _Luminary of the Stars_ not want anyone to know he’s been having secret, illicit affairs with little old me?”  Momota sputtered, intending to argue that there’s nothing _illicit_ and certainly no _affair_ going on around here, but before he could speak Ouma was already rambling, crocodile tears edging around his eyelids. “M-Momota-chan?! I thought you loved me! Even if our love is forbidden, even if all you do is band practice, arcade games and pachinko, even if you hit me every day asking for money, I still love the baby, the fruit of our love…”

Now, Momota’s head was spinning, confused. Uhh… _what?_ He felt dizzy as he gave Ouma a look of absolute ‘ _what the fuck’_ and the Supreme Leader immediately burst into a fit of giggles. “Nishishi. I’m taking creative liberties out of the morning and nighttime announcement drama!” He wrinkled his nose, even though looked positively amused. “Awful isn’t it?”

“Do me a favor. _Never_ mention that cursed Monokub shit again.”       

“Aye, aye!” Ouma replied playfully as he ran and practically _jumped_ on the bed, the mattress creaking underneath him, taking the card key that was lying on the bedside table and examining it in close detail. He was humming under his breath, a tune that Momota vaguely recognized, but couldn’t exactly place.

The astronaut watched him fondly. “Where’s Amami?” He asked absentmindedly. He was actually kinda glad Amami was nowhere to be seen at the moment… although why exactly, he wasn’t sure. He kind of… liked spending time with Ouma. The two of them together, alone with each other. Maybe it was because that’s what he was used to. Maybe because Ouma seemed more open and friendly when they’re alone. Or maybe because he just wanted the Supreme Leader all to himself. Does it matter?

Apparently it does, because Ouma gave him a side glance. “Amami-chan is off to do his own mischief tonight.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”

Momota shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. “Nothing, really, I just thought you'd bringing him with you, since you guys seem to be attached at the hip lately. You were raving on and on about how he’s your underling and shit.”

Ouma looked amused. “Oooooooh, is Momota-chan _jealous?_ ”

Momota frowned. Jealous? Him? _No way._ There was absolutely no way. Or maybe he was? _Huh._ Was he jealous? He remembered how he felt when Ouma instinctively sat beside Amami on the breakfast table, even if Momota secretly made an effort to keep one of the seats beside him unoccupied. He remembered how he felt when he saw genuine concern flash in the Supreme Leader’s eyes when Amami abruptly left, a worry so intense he wasn’t able to hide it under his mask. When Ouma bawled and pressed his face against Amami’s chest, when Ouma smiled giddily while riding his back, whenever Ouma’s eyes sparkle with fondness at the mention of him…

Momota swallowed hard, unable to reply. The amusement drained from Ouma’s eyes, as he was starting to realize that _maybe_ his teasing had been spot on. He frowned, as if he was just told that the earth was flat, as if the mere thought of Momota being jealous went against everything that made sense in the world.

“Momota-chan should stop confusing the shit out of me.” he said softly, hesitantly.

Momota scowled. “ _I_ confuse you? Come _on_.”

Ouma was silent for a long time. Momota wondered what could possibly be going on in his head, but he thought he saw something brimming in his expression. Something he was trying hard to contain. Momota sort of recognized it… _hope? What?_

The astronaut hesitated as he stared at his fingers, intertwined at his lap. He cleared his throat. “Maybe not jealous.” He replied. “Just… uncomfortable. Unsettled… _envious_?”

Was it his imagination, or was Ouma’s cheeks faintly blushing? Even so, the Supreme Leader giggled. “Stupid Momo-chan. That’s the same thing.”

“Is it?” Momota scratched the back of his head. “I mean… I guess it’s because I got into a lot of shit just trying to get you to open up to me, and then Amami walks in and you’re just get _magically_ attached to him just like that.” He said bitterly as he picked lint off his jacket.

This only made Ouma giggle even harder. “Momota-chan _really_ is dumb!” he exclaimed delightedly, as if this fact was absolutely hilarious. Momota scowled, irritation bubbling in his gut. Is that why? Because he’s _dumb_ while Amami’s smart? _I’m not stupid._  But Ouma continued on. “You don’t realize the reason I can work with Amami-chan in the first place, do you?” Ouma laid his head down on the bed and stared up at Momota with those big doe eyes, his giggles abating, as he made an expression that could only be read as _endeared._ “It’s _you_.”

Momota blinked in surprise, not quite understanding. “Me?”

The Supreme Leader nodded enthusiastically, biting his lip as if he was stifling a smile. “Momota-chan pestered the _shit_ out of me with how important trust and working together is. Maybe a few of those hope speeches got to me, you know?” Momota opened and closed his mouth, before he felt his cheeks go warm. Ouma’s eyes widened for a moment, before flashing a teasing smirk. “Ooooh! You’re blushing!”

Momota covered his face. “Am not!”

“You’re _totes_ blushing! I saw it! You can’t lie to me, Momo-chan!” He yelled childishly as he sat up, trying to pry Momota’s hand from his face. Momota felt himself flush harder as he tried to keep him from seeing his face, backing away from Ouma’s efforts.

“S-Shut up! I’m not! Get off of me--- _AH!”_

_“Eeek!”_

Any other time, Momota would have laughed and teased Ouma about the girly shriek he just let out, but that was when they weren’t falling from the bed with a loud thud, lumped together like a bunch of sandbags. Momota winced as he hit the ground _hard,_ suppressing the urge to cough at the force that nearly knocked the wind out of his lungs. It was only made worse when Ouma fell on top of his chest, legs entangled on the sheets, whining with a faint “Ow…” as he blinked away the surprise of their fall.

For a long moment they stared at each other, dumbfounded. Ouma’s lips twitched.

“Momota-chan, I think I stubbed my toe.”

“Fuck off. I think I broke a rib…” Momota groaned in pain, but then Ouma suddenly poked his stomach. Laughter immediately spilled from his lips. “S-Stop that! Hahahaha--- I mean it, stop! I’m ticklish!”

“See, your ribs are fine!” Ouma said cheerfully as he poked him a bit more. Momota squirmed. After a while though, Ouma finally stopped and tapped his chest instead, suddenly looking offended. “On the other hand, how _dare_ you not break my fall! This is all hard muscle! I might as well have fallen on a pile of rocks!” he said indignantly.

Momota rolled his eyes as he tried to sit up, but only managed to lift himself up by the elbow. “I’m an astronaut trainee, dumbass. I train, I work out, I do my best to stay fit, whatever.”

Ouma narrowed his eyes at him and pouted. “But you skip on training all the time! Saihara-chan always does more push-ups and sit-ups than you!”

Momota scowled. “Yeah, but that’s just ‘cause…” _I haven’t been feeling well since I stepped in this academy._ He wanted to say, but he caught his tongue. Ouma was still giving him a weird look, but it was then that he realized something. “Wait a fucking minute. How did you know about that? Were you stalking me?”

Ouma gave him a deadpan look. “No, I was stalking Saihara-chan.”

“ _What?”_

Ouma rolled his eyes. “Well, duh? Who wouldn’t want the Ultimate Detective on their side? Especially on a Killing Game? That’s why I was so suspicious of you. As soon as Akamatsu-chan died, you swept in like a fucking superhero, suddenly calling him your sidekick and shit.” He wrinkled his nose in distaste. “I was so sure you’re going to kill him in his sleep or something.”

Momota’s eyes widened. “I would _never!_ ”

“I know.” Ouma’s voice was suddenly soft, making Momota pause. The Supreme Leader smiled bashfully as he suddenly buried his face in Momota’s chest and hugged him tight. “Momota-chan would never kill anyone!” Momota’s heart skipped a beat as he sputtered, before blushing hard. Coming from anyone else, those words wouldn’t have meant much as it was just stating the obvious, but coming from _Ouma,_ Mr. Trust Issues himself, he felt like he was on top of the world. His heart _soared,_ and it was probably racing like crazy, because when Ouma looked up he had a smirk on his face, as if he was aware of just how much his words affected him. “Momota-chan looks cute when he’s blushing.”

 _Oh, fuck._ Momota was certain his face must look like a ripe tomato by now, god help him.

“Ask me if I trust Amami-chan.” Ouma suddenly muttered, a sly sparkle in his eyes. Momota gulped, knowing he must be up to no good. Regardless, he found himself asking.

“Do you trust Amami?”

Ouma shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe! I trust Amami-chan to do his job right. I trust Amami-chan not to rat me out to the ringleader. Because Amami-chan wants to get out as much as I do.” He said as he sat up, now straddling Momota by the waist, putting a finger on his cheek, his expression darkening. “Do I trust Amami-chan not to kill someone if he had no other choice? That’s another matter entirely.”

Momota nodded, slowly understanding the kind of relationship the two shared. Ouma suddenly beamed. “Now ask me if I trust Momota-chan!”

Momota’s eyes widened as he felt his mouth go dry. Ouma was staring expectantly at him. He stuttered. “D-Do you… trust me?”

Ouma’s expression blanked. He moved until he was leaning over Momota, his dark hair falling over him then a curtain, and Momota felt his heart pounding, _desperately_ wanting to hear his reply. Something flashed in Ouma’s eyes, and the Supreme Leader suddenly smiled fondly, putting a hand on his cheek. At this point, Momota was pretty sure if he said anything resembling a positive response, the astronaut would be hyperventilating. Ouma looked thoroughly amused as he leaned even closer to whisper in his ear.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Momota didn’t know whether he should be disappointed for being played or _relieved_ that he wasn’t going to melt in a puddle of blushing mess in front of Ouma. He let himself fall on his back as the Supreme Leader leaned away and let out another fit of giggles ( _Motherfucker._ Momota’s thoughts cursed), looking extremely pleased with himself. Momota let out a tired sigh and rolled his eyes, murmuring some more profanities under his breath.

“I got you!” He grinned.

“Yeah, fuck you too.” Momota grumbled.

“Aww, Momota-chan didn’t appreciate my efforts?”

Momota stared at him incredulously. “What efforts?”

Ouma’s expression blanked. “I was trying to flirt with you, dumbass.” He said as he suddenly hoisted himself up, leaving Momota wide eyed on the floor. Momota opened and closed his mouth, not really sure how to reply to that, but the Supreme Leader was acting as if the subject was done and over with. He was already stretching his hands out, kicking the bedsheets off his feet as he gave Momota a strained smile. “So where is it?”

Momota frowned, not quite understanding. “Where was what?” he asked, feeling… well, _dumb._ Ouma was almost always a step ahead of him whenever they talk, it was really quite hard to keep up.

Ouma was silent for a moment, before he sighed. “I was wondering why you would be changing your shirt when you should’ve heard me coming in. You smell like rust, and you have a small bloodstain on your jacket.” He said as-a-matter-of-factly, as if he was reading off a list. “So where is it? Your _bloody_ shirt, I mean.”

Momota blinked, swallowing hard. Sometimes Ouma can be as sharp as Saihara, if not sharper. “I… don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Ouma cocked an eyebrow. His voice was now cold and unfeeling. Momota shivered. He could never get used to how easy it was for him to change moods so quickly. “Oh, you think you can lie to me, Momota-chan? How cute.”

Momota’s eyes instinctively glanced under the bed as he sat up. That was his mistake. Ouma suddenly kneeled down, peering under the bed. Momota tried to stop him. “Wait---“

Ouma was silent as he pulled the bloody shirt out in the open, examining it on his fingers, his expression blank and unreadable. As the silence stretched on Momota found himself getting more and more uncomfortable, until he finally he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Say something.” He urged, feeling anxious as he bit his lip.

“That’s a lot of blood.” Ouma said. His tone was mechanical, detached. Momota felt his heart sink.

“W-Well…” he hesitated. “No shit.”

“No shit.” Ouma murmured, as if in a daze, before his expression morphed into something resembling irritation. “No _shit?_ ” he _hissed._ “This is _double_ the blood you spewed the last time I saw you cough your lungs out and that was two fucking days ago!” Momota flinched. Ouma’s breaths was turning ragged. He shut his eyes and took a shaky breath. “This is a mistake. I’ve been too distracted. I shouldn’t have taken the day off yesterday.”

Momota scowled. “Kokichi, you _needed_ the rest yesterday. You were barely able to fucking _walk._ ”

“That doesn’t matter! I’ve endured _worse!_ ”

“Hey, calm down, okay?” Momota said as he stood up and walked closer, taking Ouma’s hand which has now tightened into a tight fist on his shirt, so tensed that it looks like he’s going to rip the fabric apart. Momota ran a soothing finger across his whitened knuckles. “I won’t die. It’ll be fine…”

Ouma shook his head miserably. “We don’t know that.”

Momota felt like his heart was being squeezed out of his chest. “Hey, I’m Momota Kaito, Luminary of the Stars!” he tried to sound upbeat, to no avail. “This illness is nothing! I’ll beat its goddamn ass! So all you need to do, is solve the Killing Game with that brilliant mind…” he said as he patted his head affectionately. “… and not worry about me.”

Ouma fell silent. He sighed. “Just push the button and reset my emotions, is that what you’re telling me to do, Momota-chan?”

“When you say it like that, it sounds really horrible.” Momota said with an uneasy smile. “But you can’t tell me it’s the first time you’ve done it. I think it’s something you said a while back.”

“Mhm.” Ouma nodded as he suddenly smiled, though it was half-hearted. “For once, Momota-chan said something smart! I’m impressed. But next time… please don’t hide it. You have to tell me _exactly_ how worse you’re getting. Your illness is a variable out of our control. There’s really nothing we can do about it. But we’re close to getting out. We’ve never been _this_ close…” he shivered, but Momota couldn’t tell if it was from nerves or excitement. “So don’t die on me, Momota-chan. You can’t _fucking_ die on me.”

Momota almost laughed. “God, you’re a fucking hypocrite.”

When Ouma replied, his tone was resigned and faintly amused, as if this was a sad fact he had known long ago. “I know.”

Suddenly the silence of the night was torn apart by a bloodcurdling scream.

 _Iruma’s_ blood-curdling scream.

Panic immediately hit Momota, and all he could think was that someone _must_ be dead, something _must_ have happened, but to his wonder, Ouma simply chuckled as he tossed the shirt away. He then took the card key from the bed and slipped it in his pocket, before turning the Bugvac on with a pleased grin.

“Wow, right on time! Looks like Amami-chan is on the move! That’s our cue.” Ouma said as he gave Momota a grin. “So what do you say, Mister Luminary of the Stars? You’re not too sick to go on an adventure, are you?” He held out his hand.

Momota made a small fond smile as he took it, and when their fingers intertwined he felt his heart ache, loving the way Ouma’s hands felt _so warm_ and _so right._ He grinned.

“Never.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to think that the tune Ouma was humming at the scene with Momota was the Danganronpa theme, just unknowingly pulling it out from his subconscious. Like, you know, the way you sometimes just hum a tune even if you don’t remember where you heard it from? That. 
> 
> On the other hand, the upright tea stalk, for those who are not weebs like me, is a Japanese sign of good luck, like a four-leaf clover, I guess. Ouma seeing it on his tea supposedly meant good things will come. Or will it? OUO 
> 
> Also, I personally love that chapter ending? It reminds me of the end of Saihara’s FTEs where he reached out for Ouma but Ouma didn’t take it. This time Ouma is the one reaching out and it’s just AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH--- shut up okay I’m emotional Ouma deserves the world *gross sobs*


	9. “You already scared me half to death the last time, Kokichi.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SIDE A: Momota and Ouma proceeds with their ‘date’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at the summary. Yes, this is SIDE A, because Chapter 10 will be SIDE B. The two chapters are happening at the same night in the same time frame, but SIDE A will tackle what happened to Ouma and Momota, while SIDE B will show how Amami and Saihara's night went. 
> 
> I'm following the canon timeline, mostly, so I apologize if many things happening in the same day bothers you. It lowkey blows my mind that it's just been TWO DAYS since they got out of the love hotel, but it works well for our heroes because they do want to get out as soon as possible, especially since there's a time bomb ticking (aka Momota's illness that WILL kill him by the end of the fifth trial... unless something is done about it.)
> 
> I think this chapter is where the real fun starts, as I'm already going to start unraveling the secrets of this story one by one. Hints are already over the place, so please be my guest if you want to figure it out! Theories are welcome, let's see what you guys got! XD

“Hold this.” Ouma said as he pushed the Bugvac on Momota’s hands, lilac eyes looking determined. “First we’re going to sneak in the Ultimate Inventor’s lab.”

Momota blinked. “Why?”

Ouma simply shrugged as he put a finger in front of his lips, making a silencing gesture as they made their way through the courtyard, careful to stay in the shadows of the buildings, where they were less likely to be noticed. Iruma was shrieking as she ran past them, too preoccupied with batting the bugs that was following her around to pay them any heed. Her hair and blouse seem to be drenched with some sort of woody-smelling liquid… In the distance, Gokuhara gasped in horror as he watched his precious bugs get crushed and swatted away---

“IRUMA-SAN, NO! DON’T HURT GONTA’S BUGS!“ the entomologist cried out.

A commotion was starting. Iruma shrieked as she took off her blouse, yelling “Don’t touch me! Don’t fucking touch me!”, evidently distressed. Saihara was peering over from the main school building, looking downright terrified, and suddenly there were even more screaming and shrieking from the other parts of the Ultimate Academy. The constant buzz of the bugs made Momota shiver, and when he looked back at Ouma he saw that even he looked pale. The Supreme Leader shuddered as he murmured under his breath. “Bad memories, bad memories…”.

They continued on. As soon as Iruma’s lab was within their sight, they saw Amami in the distance, running towards them, holding a bug cage in his hands. His forehead was beaded with sweat, but he was grinning. He nodded at the humming Bugvac, cocked an eyebrow at their intertwined hands (Ouma immediately let go, much to Momota’s disappointment) and regarded Ouma. “You think that’s enough excitement to distract the ringleader?” he asked, and the Supreme Leader beamed.

“Amami-chan, I could kiss you right now.”

Amami laughed, but he gave Momota a side glance. “Let’s not.” He replied. “As I assume you just saw, Iruma-san already vacated her lab. I don’t think she’s going back there anytime soon, so knock yourselves out.”

Ouma narrowed his eyes. “Was she working on something?”

Amami hesitated. “I think she was coding… I’m not sure, why?”

Ouma bit his thumbnail, looking deep in thought. Finally, he shook his head and changed the subject. “This chaos is good, but it’s _too_ good. I’m a little concerned. I’d hate it if this diversion ended up getting used by some _fucker_ eager to get out.”

“You’re right. I’ll be too busy sneaking about… Maybe we could try to ask someone’s help. Someone trustworthy and responsible.” Amami suggested. “I’d say we could ask Momota-kun, but you’re taking him so…” Amami paused, deep in thought. Ouma seemed to consider it, and suddenly he clicked his fingers.

“Saihara-chan.”

“Saihara-kun.”

The two of them stared at each other as they said the detective’s name in unison, before both laughing nervously. It was obvious that they were both aware that they needed to be thorough tonight, as whatever they might uncover could be something important. Momota blinked. This night had more planning and thought put into it than he initially realized.

“So we’re going to tell Shuuichi?” he asked. Ouma looked back at him as if he had forgotten he was there. Excitement flooded in his expression. He felt around his pockets and pulled out a pen and a small notepad (does he bring that everywhere?), pushing the items on Momota’s chest.

“Make Saihara-chan help us, Momota-chan.” He said, eagerly. “Does he know your handwriting?”

“I think so?” Momota said as he bit off the cap of the pen and started writing, not wasting any time. Amami’s bug distraction can only last so long.

 **_Shuuichi,_ ** he wrote. **_Out with Kokichi. Amami was behind the bugs. Not a prank. Make sure everyone’s safe. I’m counting on you and Harumaki. - Momota Kaito._ ** Upon second thoughts, he doodled a small star beside his name. Ouma was smiling when he took the notepad and pen from him, adding at the bottom. **_P.S. I promise to bring back my beloved Momota-chan in good condition. Tell killer girl not to put her panties in a twist. XOXO, Ouma-sama._ **

Momota frowned at him. “Was that really necessary?”

“No.” Ouma admitted as he bit his lip over a smile and tore the note off, handing it to Amami. “But this way Saihara-chan would be more convinced that you won’t be harmed, since if you suddenly died he’d have hard evidence, in my own handwriting, that I was the last person you were with.” He flashed a smile. “From this point onwards, your life is my responsibility, Momota-chan. Nishishi.”

Momota stifled a smile. Ouma made it sound as if Momota was a book that he was borrowing from the library, and that note was his borrower’s card. But in a strange sort of way… it kind of made sense. Amami read the note with an amused expression on his face, before folding it and nodding at them. “So. This is where we part ways, I guess.” He said.

Ouma gave him a strained smile. “I better not see Amami-chan’s corpse by tomorrow.”

Amami chuckled nervously.

“I mean it.” Ouma insisted, looking more serious and grim. “Remember the system I taught you? Tell me the places you’re going tonight. In order.”

Amami shook his head as he pulled his sleeve past his elbow, showing off his arm that littered with words in ballpoint ink. Even upside down, Momota managed to read some of it. _Shrine of Judgement- Fountain._ _Main entrance hall. Girl’s restroom 1F. Artist Lab._ The list went on.  “I wrote it down on my skin so I won’t forget.” He said sheepishly before he glanced at Momota, as if he was a little self-conscious that he was there. “You know… with my memory lapses and all.”

 _Memory lapses?_ Momota wanted to ask what he meant, but Ouma was already moving on, nodding approvingly as if he understood. “And your marker?” Amami pulled out a black marker from his pocket. The Supreme Leader looked pleased. “Don’t forget to mark the places where you’ve been. Just a precaution. So that… if you suddenly disappear... or die---“ he seem to choke a bit, suddenly looking worried.

“You’d know _exactly_ where I was last.” Amami finished for him, smiling in reassurance. “Yes, _mom._ ” He teased a bit, but Ouma only looked more distressed as he suddenly shook his head.

“This is a mistake.” He murmured. “Amami-chan, your job is more dangerous. _I_ should do it. It only makes sense. I’m smaller, I can hide and sneak around easily---“

“Except you still haven’t completely recovered, you still tire easily and you can’t possibly walk around the _entire_ school for an _entire_ night right now… add that to the fact that I don’t want to be anywhere near that card key motive.” Amami said with a patient sigh, as if they’ve already discussed this before. “I’m the Ultimate Adventurer, did you forget? Sneaking around and exploring is _literally_ my talent.” He said as he gave Ouma’s forehead a playful poke. Ouma whined as he rubbed the spot. Amami then gave Momota a look that was almost stern. “Momota-kun, Ouma-kun here may seem fully recovered, but don’t get tricked: he asked me to carry him twelve times today. Though I think at least four of those were for his own amusement…” he trailed off. Ouma snickered. “Regardless, I’d really appreciate it if you don’t let any bombs explode on his face, his sense of balance is already compromised as it is.”

 _Bombs?_ Momota gulped. He didn’t know what he’s gotten himself into, but he nodded. To this Amami looked satisfied as he made a small playful salute, half-running away. Ouma called after him. "We sleep-deprive like Ultimates, Amami-chan, but you better get some sleep in the morning! See you at lunchtime tomorrow!” he said as he waved his arm in goodbye. Amami chuckled as he disappeared out of sight.

As soon as he was gone, Ouma’s grin faded. He looked awfully worried, and Momota nudged him a little bit, trying to reassure him. “He’ll be fine. Amami’s a careful guy.”

“He already died once.” Ouma muttered, reminding him. Momota shuddered, realizing he was right.

“Well... all the more reason for him to get _even more_ careful this time around.” He relented. Ouma relaxed at that, before he nodded and pulled him in the direction of Iruma’s research lab. Momota couldn’t help but ask. “What was that about anyway? Why is Amami checking out those spots in the first place?”

“We’re looking for a hidden passage.” Ouma replied as he pushed the door of the lab open. “We scouted earlier today, and listed down some suspicious places, but we can’t really check it in broad daylight. Somewhere out there, there has to be some other way to get to the room beyond the hidden door of the library.”

Momota frowned. “Okay, but how can you be so sure? And so what if there’s a hidden passage?”

Ouma smiled faintly, a smile that’s almost pained. “Momota-chan doesn’t need to know for now. For Saihara-chan’s sake, don’t ask. It will just make you feel awful.”

Momota didn’t like the sound of that at all. _For Shuuichi’s sake?_ He wondered. _Why does Shuuichi have anything to do with it?_ The question gave him a nagging feeling of dread, so he shook the thoughts out of his head, deciding to trust Ouma on this and not ponder it any further. Ouma, however, still looked conflicted as he gazed back at the direction Amami took.

“Maybe I should’ve given him the Bugvac…” he bit his thumbnail anxiously, before he shook his head uneasily. “No… if we’re going where I think we’re going; we need the Bugvac more.”

Momota gave him a wary look. “Where do you think we’re going, Kokichi?”

Ouma hesitated, but didn’t reply. Momota narrowed his eyes. Amami said _bombs._ The only place he could think that had bombs was _that_ place. The place where they learned the true meaning of despair for the very first time… the place where they failed as a group, over and over and over… but that doesn’t make sense. If that place was really where they’re headed, how does Ouma expect to slip through the obstacles with just the two of them? That didn’t sound realistic at all.

“We should hurry, before Iruma-chan comes back.” Ouma prompted, looking mildly impatient. Momota sighed. It was a bit hard, trying to get used to Ouma’s way of doing things. The Supreme Leader had a habit of keeping most details to himself until the very last moment. Regardless, he nodded.

The Supreme Leader skipped ahead and walked inside the lab, looking around with a wary expression. He easily took two of the hammer-looking contraptions in front of the workbench, pushed some buttons on the handle and checked, before nodding thoughtfully and handing them to Momota. “Fully charged, good. Take this, Momota-chan. We’re going to need it.” Momota simply nodded. Ouma looked lost in thought, so he decided not to ask what these items are for, since he’s going to find out later anyway. The Supreme Leader had a strange look in his face as he stared at the blueprints posted on the walls (some of those are Ouma’s handwriting, Momota realized), before his attention was caught by the laptop blinking idly on one of the tables.

“This wasn’t here before.” Ouma murmured. Determination flashed in his eyes, and immediately he walked over and turned it on. The laptop booted to life. The screen read: **Welcome to the Neo World Program** before it started listing down words in seemingly systematic order. Computer codes, Momota realized. Ouma’s eyes moved frantically over every line, reading it intently.

“Can you understand that?” Momota asked, curiously.

“A little.” Ouma replied, his eyebrows furrowing a bit in frustration.

“I think I saw this laptop in the computer room before.” Momota said helpfully. “Iruma was there last night. Around midnight, I think. I heard her.”

Ouma gave him a look. “Why were you near the computer room at fucking midnight?”

Momota sputtered. “I-It doesn’t matter!” Ouma narrowed his eyes at him, but didn’t pry. The Supreme Leader simply continued scrolling and reading. Suddenly his expression lit up.

“There!” he pointed out. Momota looked back at the screen, but he didn’t see anything new or remarkable. Just some more jumbled computer code. But Ouma looked as if he just found some gold. “Look! At this point the coding style changed drastically, Iruma-chan must have been rewriting the program to some extent…” he trailed off as he read the lines of code, his expression blanking.

 _Uh-oh._ Momota frowned, worried. Ouma’s expression going blank usually meant more bad than good, and at this point, Momota honestly felt more uneasy seeing that blank look compared to his other, more nightmare-fuel expressions. He hesitated. “Kokichi…?” Ouma closed the laptop slowly, staring at it with an look that almost seemed…. terrified. Momota frowned, concerned. “Kokichi, why? What’s wrong?” Ouma blinked a couple of times, as if he was coming out of a daze. He swallowed hard. Momota watched him try to regain his composure, before giving the astronaut a cheerful smile. But something about that smile seemed… off. Momota could tell. It was the same strained, overly cheery smile that Ouma had back when Monokuma told them about the Love Hotel motive.

“Nothing!” Ouma _lied._ Momota knew. He scowled. “I just saw some _really nasty_ stuff the _stupid whore_ came up with! Momota-chan should steer clear, if he doesn’t want to be scarred forever.” Ouma giggled, but Momota wasn’t at all amused. He narrowed his eyes at him.

“Oh, you think you can lie to _me_ , Kokichi?” Momota said, echoing Ouma’s words from earlier, back in his room.  “How _cute_.”

Ouma’s expression suddenly fell. Momota was expecting him to keep the ruse, as he usually does, but the Supreme Leader sighed as if he expected to be caught. He let out a mirthless chuckle. When he spoke again, his voice was more resigned. “I’m not lying. It’s _really_ nasty.” His voice broke, as he took a step back, lightly pulling at his hair as if he didn’t know what to do. “I can’t deal with this… not now…”

Momota _despised_ seeing him like this. Ouma was an emotional person, he knew, but he was strong. _Really_ strong. He supposed it must have been a testament of how much the Killing Game is wearing the Supreme Leader down, and he wanted nothing but to simply pull him in his arms and protect him from the cold, cruel world. He took a step closer. “Kokichi, tell me what’s wrong.” he pleaded. Ouma shook his head vigorously. He wasn’t looking at him. He bit his thumbnail anxiously, almost violently, and this time Momota was almost worried he’d bite it to the quick. “Kokichi.” He called out. Ouma still wasn’t listening. It was getting on his nerves. He took another step closer and pulled his hand away from his mouth, just to get his attention. “Kokichi! At least listen to me---“

 _“Shut up!”_  Ouma suddenly yelled, looking exasperated as he struggled against his grasp. “I’m thinking!” Momota scowled, but Ouma didn’t look like he cared. He stared at the floor, eyes desperate, looking like his mind was running a hundred miles an hour--- suddenly, he groaned and stomped his feet in frustration. “ _Goddammit_ , everything was going well! Why does something like this have to _fuck everything up_ \---“

Momota pulled him into a hug.

He didn’t know what pushed him to do such a thing, but he hugged the Supreme Leader anyway, tightly, catching his small frame in his strong grip. Ouma let out a gasp, the sudden embrace catching him off guard. “M-Momota-chan…?”

“Shh.” Momota said as he caressed his hair softly, in what he was hoping was a soothing manner. Ouma stiffened for a moment, before he relaxed slowly. Momota hesitated, trying to think of words of comfort, but what can he possibly say in this situation? He didn’t even know what’s _wrong._ Something like ‘It’ll be okay’ or ‘I’ll be here for you’ may work on someone like Saihara, but to Ouma it would simply fall on deaf ears. The Supreme Leader doesn’t appreciate those kind of hollow sentiments, he appreciated action. Realizing this, he suddenly knew what to say. He licked his lips. “You can’t think well when you’re stressed. You’re bad under pressure, Kokichi. So… I think you should calm down. Relax.” To his relief, Ouma nodded and clung to him, letting out a shaky breath. They stayed like that for a few moments, until finally, Ouma sighed softly, the tension leaving his shoulders.

“Better?” Momota asked.

Ouma nodded.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No.” The Supreme Leader said, simply.

“ _I_ wanna talk about it.” Momota revised.

Ouma scoffed. “Of course you do.” He replied, sounding vaguely irritated. “But not now. Maybe… later. I need to reconsider my options.”

“Kokichi.” Momota warned.

“ _Please.”_

Momota stared down at him with worried eyes. “I mean it when I told you that I want to take the danger for you. You know that, right?” Ouma nodded hesitantly. Momota continued. “Amami cares for you too, I could tell. We’re here to help you, like we’re doing tonight. So whatever shit that got you so shaken up, you better tell us soon.”

Ouma made faint smile. “Momota-chan is so overprotective.”

“You already scared me half to death the last time, Kokichi.”

Ouma fell silent. He looked like he was about to say something for a moment, thought better of it, and finally sighed, pulling back. “I want to get out of here before Iruma-chan comes back. I can’t really stand to see her face right now.” He suddenly said as he pulled out his notepad again and started writing. Momota peered over. The message was short and crude and straight to the point---- almost angry.

 **_Whore,_ ** it read. **_I brought more blueprints. Finish the goods by tomorrow OR ELSE._ ** As soon as he finished it, Ouma pulled out a folded piece of paper from his pocket and slammed it on the table beside the note. He looked like he was getting ready to go, so Momota picked up the hammer-looking thingies that Ouma passed along to him earlier.

“So…” Momota hesitated. “We’re going now, right?”

Ouma closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, he was smiling cheerfully. “Yeah! Let’s go, Momota-chan!”

 _Just push the button and reset my emotions,_ Momota remembered. When Ouma walked out of the lab, he was grinning, smiling as if nothing had happened, and suddenly Momota realized that _that_ must have been how the Supreme Leader does it, every time after the class trials. Every time after the body discovery announcements. Every time after one of their classmates _falls dead._

 _That’s probably how he’s going to do it after_ you _die too._ A traitorous part of his psyche murmured. He clenched his fist. He’s _not_ going to die. He’s _not_ going to leave Ouma alone. They’re going to get out of here, with everyone else.

No matter what.

 

* * *

 

Chance.

Everyone was amused. The bugs were swarming around campus and terrorizing students--- it was a funny sight. Even if the bugs interfered with the cameras… even if they could hardly hear what most of the students were talking about through the constant buzz… the ratings tonight were high, so it didn’t really matter. That’s all the staff ever cared about, really. Ratings. Entertainment.

The programmer sighed as he walked over to the lounge to take his break. It has been so long since he stepped out of the control room, and his eyes actually felt strained from the bright fluorescent lights when he got out. Something strange was happening inside the Killing Game, he knew, but that wasn’t his problem to fix. The programmer didn’t care what becomes of the fifty-third season, honestly, he only cares about his personal objectives. Even so, the fact that a lot of the cameras seem to be malfunctioning lately is concerning. It worries him a little. He was wondering whether or not he should inform the rest of his coworkers about it when noticed _them_ , sitting on the lounge cheerfully, laughing along at the look on their former classmate’s faces, enjoying the show like everyone else.

“Oh my god, I’m glad I died early, I can’t _stand_ bugs.”

“Angie remembers the Insect Meet and Greet! It was a nightmare, but Atua protected me.”

“How come your in-game persona is still ingrained on you?”

“Angie’s faith is strong! Nyahahaha!”

“I brought refreshments from the kitchen if anyone is interested…”

“Kirumi, you’re not a maid anymore.”

“Where’s Amami-kun, I wonder? I wanna see the look on his face!”

“You really have a grudge on him, don’t you, Akamatsu?”

“Haha, that’s ancient history, Hoshi-kun!”

Laughter. Giggles. Smiles. They all look so happy, so comfortable. The programmer bit his lip, feeling guilt seep inside his chest _. It’s my fault._

In the corner of the lounge, there he sat. The only person who didn’t look amused, but concerned. He was playing absently with the tips of his hair, and when his golden eyes met the programmer’s, a knowing look was shared between them. The guy pulled down the medical mask that was covering his nose and mouth, giving the programmer a faint smile as he mouthed: _Thank you._

The programmer felt his cheeks burn as he looked away, bringing his eyes back to the television. The Ultimate Academy was still in disarray. Maybe he could risk it.  He opened the laptop he was always carrying, the core processor of his pride and joy. He hovered his fingers over the keyboard… and started typing.

 

status: auto sentience: on

admin.cmmnd <OVERRIDE> ERROR

_Command does not exist._

admin.cmmnd <IT DOES> ERROR

_Command is locked._

admin.cmmnd <LOGIN> UserID: *******

password: “**********” SUCCESS

 

Please wait…

Recovering encrypted data… Successful.

Restarting…

 

 **PROJECT.exe** <START>

Initializing…

[ **Welcome back, Father.** ]

[ **… It seems we have caught ourselves in quite a pinch.** ]

[ **Is there anything I can help you with?** ]

 

* * *

 

_Iruma-chan is going to kill me._

The thought was running in Ouma’s head, over and over, like a broken record. A killing game simulator, that’s what the computer room is, he understood that now. A virtual reality (virtual reality… _huh_ . So that really _is_ a thing) that can _actually_ kill someone through shock. He didn’t know how Iruma planned to take them all inside there, but she’s going to use that, no doubt. And the fact that she was fiddling with an avatar--- an avatar bearing his name, no less--- couldn’t have meant anything else.

_Iruma-chan is going to kill me._

The thought sent chills down his spine. He didn’t want to die, not if he can help it. Not when they’re so close to the truth. Not when they’re _so close_ to getting out. Not when he finally has allies to rely on. What should he do? What _can_ he do? Even if he destroyed the laptop, Iruma’s smart, she’ll simply come up with a new murder tactic. If he destroyed her plans or expose her to the group--- that’d only make her panic, no doubt. Panic creates accidents. At least this way he knew exactly _when_ and _where_ she was planning her murder. At least this way he still had the upper hand.

_Iruma-chan is going to kill me._

Maybe he should… let her? The idea made him curious. Especially since he knew that being dead in this game _doesn’t necessarily mean_ he’d be dead for good, with the development of Amami’s revival. Where do the dead go? Is there any way the others could also be brought back to life? But no. Momota would never let him take such a risk, anyway. He’ll be mad, he’ll yell at him for even considering it, surely… _Huh._ He thought. _Since when do I give a shit what anyone says?_ A part of him agreed, who cares if Momota wouldn’t approve of it? He had Amami who would surely be interested in the prospect. But then he remembered the look on Momota’s face yesterday, when he talked about putting himself in danger… _I don’t want to go through that again._ His eyes were pained, his expression pleading. It squeezed Ouma’s cold, wretched heart. He couldn’t stand to be _that_ cruel to Momota, he just couldn’t.

_Iruma-chan is going to kill me…_

He should’ve expected it, really, that he would be Iruma’s target. The inventor, being the way she is, smart and cowardly, would _certainly_ try and kill those who does a lot of helpful contribution to the class trials. Killing Ouma would lower her chances of getting caught. Truth be told, Ouma was a little relieved that she didn’t have her eyes on Saihara. But then again, Saihara wasn’t the one who can reduce her into a stuttering mess.

_She’s going to kill me…_

“Kokichi, look out!”

Ouma blinked just in time to yelp as a sudden weight crashed over him, a loud explosion bringing him back to the present. Momota grunted as he held him, and Ouma only realized just then that the astronaut used his body to shield him from the worst of the bomb. _I must have missed it with my electrohammer._ He realized with a bit of self-loathing. _Shit, I’m too distracted, what is_ wrong _with me?_

 _You’re still sick, dumbass._ A part of him retorted. He sighed heavily as he held his electrohammer, the contraption feeling heavy in his hand. He didn’t dare tell Momota, but his vision was already a blur, beads of sweat beading on his skin, and every time they jump over the gaps, he feels a wave of dizziness hit him, threatening to topple him over the edge. It was a miracle that he was still able to continue on, really, as he didn’t have the strength for this kind of strenuous activity right now, but he didn’t have time to lie low. Iruma is going to perform her murder soon, he couldn’t afford to _not_ be aggressive in his investigations. Not to mention that Momota’s illness was worsening every day. They needed to get out _as_ _soon as possible._

Even so, he couldn’t afford to be sloppy. _Pull yourself together._

“Momota-chan, are you alright?” he asked. _I’m sorry._ He wanted to say, but he knew Momota would probably tease him for it, so he held his tongue.

The astronaut grinned. “Yeah. This is nothing!” he replied, before a shudder ran through his body, coughing a bit into his hand. A trickle of red dripped from his lips, but he simply wiped it off with his shirt. Ouma noted that he seemed to be used to it already. That didn’t make him feel any better. “These small bombs don’t really do much damage, but I promised Amami I won’t let them explode on you.”

 _Oh._ Ouma flushed as he nodded. For a moment, Momota gave him a look, and no doubt he was already noticing his pale complexion, but he didn’t comment on it. He simply walked over in front of him in a manner that was almost… protective. They continued on with Momota leading in front, something Ouma was silently grateful for, because at least this time he could stumble and stagger pathetically without the astronaut seeing him---

His relief was short-lived. Because soon enough, Momota looked back at him, deeply troubled by his inability to catch up. Even while Momota was sick, it seems that he was still able to keep up with the obstacles and the bombs. That astronaut training must be really paying off. “Kokichi? You alright? We can take a break if you---“

“ _No!”_ Ouma insisted as he gripped the electrohammer as tight as he could, careful that it won’t slip from his sweaty palms. “Amami-chan is working hard out there, you think I’m going to let him take all the glory? No way!”

Momota frowned. “But Kokichi…”

“Shut up, Momota-chan. We’re pressing forward! Leader’s orders!”

Momota scowled. “I’m not taking orders from you.” he replied, but even as he said that, he still turned back to face the obstacle course again anyway. “Stay close behind me.”

Ouma pouted. “I’m not taking orders from you!” he replied, but even as he said that, he still shuffled closer behind him anyway. Momota looked back at him and stifled a smile. They continued on, but this time Ouma noted that Momota moved slower. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“So, how can you say this is where the card key is going to be used anyway?” Momota asked as he used his electrohammer to disable a couple of booby traps ahead of them, carefully walking through the path it opened, one step at a time.

Ouma followed close behind as he hummed. “Hm~ I don’t know… maybe a hunch, Momota-chan!”

Momota scoffed. “Ouma Kokichi doesn’t rely on hunches.”

“Pffft--- haha, look at you, Momota-chan! Acting like you know me so well.”

“It’s because I _do_ know you well.” Momota replied. “Or at least, I hope so.”

Ouma shivered. He remembered what Momota did back in the Ultimate Inventor’s lab… his arms around his lithe body, warm and strong and _safe_ \--- _“You can’t think well when you’re stressed. You’re bad under pressure, Kokichi.”_ He said those words so easily, as if he was so sure of himself. And he was right. Ouma _is_ bad under pressure. If Momota hadn’t been there to calm him down, he didn’t know what he would have decided to do in that moment of panic. But right now, he was calm. His head was working. And he can see possibilities… _so many possibilities…_ laid down in front of him.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Momota reminded him. He was getting better at spotting Ouma’s attempts at dodging questions recently. Ouma wasn’t sure whether or not that’s a bad thing. For one, it felt good to have someone he didn’t need to explain himself to. The astronaut just kind of… _gets_ it. Like yesterday, when Ouma couldn’t just swallow his pride and admit he wanted to cuddle him. And this morning, when he wanted him to get the card key. One look and Momota just sort of… _understands_ what he wanted to say. And yet, in some ways that was also kind of terrifying, having someone who can read him well. Having someone who could tell the real Ouma Kokichi from his countless masks. A part of Ouma wondered if maybe one day Momota could finally read the big neon sign of “I’m in love with you” flashing above his head… maybe then he’d be spared of the horror of having to confess his feelings.

That line of thought gave him a pause. Confess? To Momota? The thought made him uncomfortable. It was an unfamiliar feeling, pining for someone, not knowing whether or not they could ever like you back. Momota being the way he was actually made it _worse_ \--- Ouma was never sure whether he was just being loyal to his hero persona or if Ouma actually had a chance with him. He remembered what Momota said in his room earlier this evening, that he was jealous of Amami, but does that really mean anything? Is it _smart_ to get his hopes up?

It wasn’t. He _knew_ it wasn’t but…

 _Momota-chan was blushing._ It was cute. _So_ cute, he couldn’t help himself.

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of these thoughts. _Focus._ What was Momota’s question again? Right… about the card key…

“It’s not a matter of figuring out so much as it’s a matter of considering what areas are still left unexplored.” he replied. “I figured since he spent so much effort in preparing this academy for the Killing Game, Monokuma would want no area wasted. It’s been three trials already, and what waits in the end of this road is still a mystery. If this card key isn’t for the hidden door in the library, it must be somewhere in here… I think.”

Momota looked thoughtful as he hit a few other traps with his electrohammer, disabling them. “I guess that makes sense… but that means Monokuma is aware you already have these electrohammer stuff, right? It worries me.”

Ouma shrugged. “I won’t be surprised if this is a motive he made just for me.”

Momota glanced back, looking worried. “Kokichi…”

“Onwards, Momota-chan! I think we’re almost there.”

Indeed they were. Soon enough, the Death Road of Despair opened up into a huge hangar. It was quite spacious, metal walls and metal floors and metal ceilings, complete with wires and pipes jutting out of the walls. The strange monitors in the right wall hummed with energy, it looked similar to speedometers and heartbeat monitors, and Ouma couldn’t help but wonder what they were for. When he looked over at the far end of the room, however, his attention was immediately captured. There was a door--- well, it looked more like the entrance to a vault than an actual door--- protected by some kind of barrier. He walked over to it, cautiously, it was then that he saw the control panel in the corner.

“There’s a slot for a card key.” He realized. This door, presumably leading to the Outside World, was right there, and he had the key to open it. Excitement filled Ouma’s heart… followed by a deep sense of dread. He glanced at Momota. He was still holding the Bugvac, humming continuously. The ringleader didn’t know they were here. If this was the Outside World… if this was the _real_ Outside World, then…

Momota followed him and made a sigh of relief when he saw the control panel. “Well, that’s good. Glad we didn’t waste our effort for nothing.” He glanced up at the door worriedly. “So… this is the exit, then? Does that mean we can get out? We should’ve brought the others then.”

“Don’t count the chickens until they’ve hatched.” Ouma warned as he took the card key and placed it on its slot in the control panel. “We don’t know what’s on the other side of this door, Momota-chan.”

“Right…”

Ouma hesitated. He realized then that his hands were shaking. Momota seemed to notice it. He didn’t say anything, but he simply placed a hand on Ouma’s shoulder and squeezed it. The message was clear: _I’m here._ Ouma felt himself relax. The two of them have been through so much together. He wants this _so badly_ to be the end. He wants this _so badly_ to be the exit. But he knew the universe is rarely that generous. _Think objectively. Whatever is behind this door, think objectively._ He gathered his courage and swiped the card. The barrier disappeared. Green lights lit up around the perimeter of the door, as it slowly opened…

Ouma’s eyes widened. There was only one word he could describe the scene that lay before them.

_Despair._

 

* * *

 

“I can’t say I didn’t expect it.”

Momota bit his lip as he adjusted Ouma on his back, making their way back to the dormitories. To say that their night went downhill from there was an understatement--- this was the first time in the last three hours that he heard the Supreme Leader speak at all. What they saw beyond that door was nothing like Momota expected--- red skies, broken buildings, toxic air--- it was a fucking _wasteland_ , a post-apocalyptic scenery that Momota thought he’d only ever see in movies. But this was reality. This was _their_ reality. And as much as Momota wanted to hang on to hope, he could feel himself slipping, his head hurting, because it doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t make sense, _it doesn’t make sense---_

_The Outside World is done for._

No.

_Nothing matters anymore._

No!

He clenched his fist and let out a shaky breath. For a moment back then he had deluded himself to think that they were walking towards freedom, but he now realized how naïve he had been. That card key was from Monokuma after all. If there was one thing Monokuma thrives on, it was their despair. And _boy_ , did he make them _despair._ If it wasn’t for his silent promise to Ouma, his promise to _be there for him_ , Momota would have already crumpled into a horrible _mess._ But no--- he couldn’t afford to break down. He couldn’t afford to lose himself now. No matter how much this piece of information was driving him crazy, no matter how much this is making him sick---

The Outside World is gone. Fact. Unbending. Or was it? _It doesn’t make sense._ Was that the aftermath of the meteorites? Then… were people already gone? Was everyone dead? But Ouma said people were watching… If people weren’t watching, Monokuma wouldn’t be such a stickler to the rules. Where were they watching from? Where’s the rest of the world? What happened? Why were they trapped in here? Was the audience even real? It was Ouma’s hypothesis, but what if Ouma was wrong? What if the world really was destroyed, and there really were nowhere else they could go---

“Momota-chan should stop trying to think, it’s unbecoming of him.” Ouma suddenly said. Momota scowled, opening his mouth to say something, but the Supreme Leader suddenly reached over and covered it, taking him off guard. When the Supreme Leader spoke again, his voice was soft, soothing. “Shush now. It’s _my_ job to think. It’s yours to keep us calm and stable. Isn’t that how things have always been, Momota-chan?”

Momota blinked... and slowly nodded. Ouma was right, he realized. Even back in the Love Hotel incident, this was how they did things. While that didn’t really end well, this time Momota wanted to trust that Ouma wouldn’t resort to doing something so rash again. He’s been observing him for hours now, and while the Supreme Leader seemed to be shaken up by their discovery, he could see that he was calm. Not _eerie_ calm (which usually meant he’d be up to no good), but the sort of calmness that suggested he had everything under control. Though how he’d have _anything_ under control when their entire planet is in _shambles_ is a mystery Momota wanted to solve.

The Supreme Leader snuggled close against his nape as he continued on walking through the now-deserted courtyard. It must have already been well past midnight, everyone must already be asleep, and the astronaut couldn’t help but wonder how Amami’s exploration had gone, hoping against all hope that he at least would have gotten better news. Ouma made it clear earlier that Momota _mustn’t_ tell anyone about what they saw, _especially not_ Amami. The way he said it so aggressively bothered the astronaut, honestly. Ouma is planning something, he knew. He must be.

“Momota-chan... can we spend the night together again?”

The sudden request made Momota’s eyes widen. It was so rare of Ouma to ask so straightforwardly about things like that, but he supposed that made sense. Ouma’s nightmares were obviously rooted somewhere along the events of the Killing Game, and this night was _hell_. The astronaut found himself nodding, before he asked. “My room or yours?”

Ouma hummed softly for a moment, before he replied. “Mine.”

They arrived at the Supreme Leader’s door a few minutes later. Ouma slid down his back, looking tired and sleepy. He easily picked the lock ( _does he not have a key?_ Momota wondered) and opened the door. The usual organized chaos greeted them, and the Supreme Leader walked in, taking off his neckerchief. Every movement of his reminded Momota of a robot, as if he was moving on muscle memory alone. Momota walked in silently and closed the door behind him, but it was then that he noticed _it,_ right under his foot. A piece of paper, placed right there as if it was slipped through the gap between the floor and the door. He frowned as he knelt down and picked it up.

“Kokichi, I think one of your papers got misplaced...” he trailed off as he turned it over, eyes widening when he saw the symbols written on the other side. Panic immediately engulfed his senses. “Kokichi.” He muttered, but the Supreme Leader didn’t reply. He was already walking towards the bed. “Kokichi!”

Ouma looked back at him and frowned, mildly annoyed. “What?”

“I think you might want to see this.”

Ouma’s frown only deepened as he walked over towards him, rubbing his eyes sleepily. When he glanced down at the paper however, he paused, reading it. His lilac eyes widened, suddenly looking alert, as he read it again. Then he snatched the paper out of Momota’s grasp, hands mildly shaking, as he read it... _again._

“I... I don’t understand.” Ouma murmured, looking completely bewildered. “You didn’t teach anyone this cipher, did you, Momota-chan?”

“Me?” Momota asked indignantly. “No, of course not!”

Ouma bit his thumbnail anxiously. He swallowed hard, before he shook his head vigorously and _laughed._ “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

The Supreme Leader looked like he was about to crumple the piece of paper, but thought better of it. Instead, he walked over to the whiteboard, took a piece of tape, and attached it right next to Amami’s picture, before writing question marks underneath. The image of it there made Momota’s skin crawl, as he stared at the familiar set of symbols of the cipher Ouma had taught him not too long ago, spelling down three simple words that brought an unwelcome sense of doubt and distrust through his very being.

 _It doesn’t make sense._ His thoughts whispered. But the encrypted message was still there. Fact. Unbending… or was it?

**_Don’t trust Amami._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOoooooooh shoot. Don't trust Amami. How ominous. XD


	10. "He's fishy."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SIDE B: Amami does his own mischief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The promised SIDE B! :D 
> 
> Lots of love to my betareader, Zay! Oh, and there's an announcement at the end, so please read that. Thanks!

 “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this is an elaborate prank. But you wouldn’t stoop so low as to indulge Ouma like that, would you, Amami?” Harukawa asked, her red eyes flashing with warning. The message was clear: _If you say yes, you’re on my hit list._ Amami chuckled nervously as he tried to explain himself, but Saihara wasn’t really listening. He was deep in thought, a palm placed over his mouth, as he stared at the note currently in his possession, delivered by the adventurer not too long after the bugs started their flight.

**_Shuuichi,_ **

**_Out with Kokichi. Amami was behind the bugs. Not a prank. Make sure everyone’s safe. I’m counting on you and Harumaki._ **

**_\- Momota Kaito._ ** ☆

Saihara read it over and over, confirming that it was indeed Momota’s handwriting. It seemed as though it was written in a hurry, though there weren’t any indication that he’s been in any way forced into writing it. Not that Momota needed any forcing to work with Ouma these days. There was once a time that he figured Momota would rather eat dirt than be within two meters of the Supreme Leader, but after the Love Hotel incident, that attitude was nothing but ancient history. Momota was obviously _attached_ to Ouma. He made it a point to state that he’d trust the Supreme Leader with his life. But while Saihara was certain of the astronaut’s goodwill, Ouma’s was a different matter entirely.

The detective didn’t know Ouma well enough. He didn’t _trust_ the Supreme Leader well enough. And for that reason, he was worried for Momota’s wellbeing, his safety.

But as fate would have it, Ouma got him covered.

**_P.S. I promise to bring back my beloved Momota-chan in good condition. Tell killer girl not to put her panties in a twist. XOXO, Ouma-sama._ **

Harukawa scowled when she glanced over at the note and read that line again, looking rather aggravated. Saihara was honestly quite relieved. Ouma wasn’t known for keeping his promises, no, but the fact that he was willing to leave hard evidence of his involvement was proof enough. Momota would be okay. At least, Ouma would be doing his very best to make sure he’d be okay. Unless he wanted to be the Ultimate Detective’s prime suspect.

The thought of having to pin the elusive Supreme Leader down in a class trial made Saihara’s head spin with anxiety. Hopefully, things wouldn’t have to end that way.

Saihara sighed softly as he folded the note and placed it inside his chest pocket. Amami was staring at him with a gaze that was unbecoming of his chill personality--- he looked rather intense tonight, Saihara noted. As if he was… nervous. The detective remembered the contents of the note: _Amami was behind the bugs. Not a prank._ What could they possibly be trying to do that required the use of the bugs moving and flailing about all over campus? If this wasn’t a prank, that what was it? There was only one possible explanation he could think of: the card key. Somehow, this chaos _must_ be related to the card key, the one that Momota pried off his fingers his morning. The astronaut had tried to be subtle about it (which was both surprising and mildly impressive, as Momota wasn’t known for his subtlety), but Saihara was aware--- while he was happy he wasn’t responsible with the motive anymore, he knew _something_ had to be done with it. And maybe, just maybe _…_ he was grateful that _that_ something is happening, that Momota was working it out, even though his choice of allies were less than preferable.

Ouma Kokichi and Amami Rantarou. The Ultimate Supreme Leader and the Ultimate Adventurer. _The conniving brat and the undead._ Saihara sighed.

“What do we have to do?” He asked, which made Harukawa’s eyes widen, disbelief evident in her expression.

“Saihara, we don’t have to do _anything_. This is clearly another one of that asshole’s antics.” She argued.

“I doubt it. Besides, Momota-kun said he’s counting on us.” Saihara easily replied, smiling at her nervously. “That was, without a doubt, Momota-kun’s handwriting. He simply told us to keep everyone safe, which is a harmless request anyway. Why don’t we trust him for now?”

Harukawa opened her mouth to reply, before the truth in Saihara’s words seem to occur to her. The assassin puffed her cheeks, sighing as she fiddled with her ribbon, looking a bit lost in thought. “Fine.” She eventually relented. Saihara eyes lit up in gratitude, relieved that she was being agreeable. To say she had a rocky relationship with Ouma would be a grave understatement, but at least she was willing to help. This seemed to relieve Amami as well, as the adventurer watched their exchange with a strained smile.

“Well, I’m not really sure what you should do, exactly. I suppose we just wanted to warn you guys. I’d feel really bad if someone dies and it ends up being my fault for causing this…” Amami gestured vaguely to the chaos around them. “… you know.”

“It wouldn’t have to be your fault if you didn’t start this madness in the first place.” Harukawa retorted, looking mildly irritated. Amami chuckled.

“I suppose you’re right. But I don’t have a choice. Unlike _some_ people, I’m determined to do something about our situation.” The last remark was pointed, almost accusatory, and Saihara flinched, feeling guilt seep into his heart. Amami was right, what has he been doing to get their group out of here? He’s useless, he knew, as his talent could only be used after the deed was done, after someone _already died._ He almost opened his mouth to apologize, but Harukawa stepped forward, _glaring_ at Amami, quite indignant.

“Do you wanna _die_?” she hissed, and this time it was a threat.

Amami smiled coldly at her, unfazed. “I already did, didn’t I?”

Harukawa looked like he was about to strangle the Ultimate Adventurer, if Saihara hadn’t stopped her in time. “E-Enough. Harukawa-san, _please._ ” He gave her a look, and eventually, the assassin backed down. It was then that Saihara regarded Amami. “We’ll be glad to help, Amami-kun. However, once everything is over, I’d like to… talk to you and Ouma-kun.” He said, giving Amami a look of earnest.

The adventurer shrugged as he turned to leave, looking at them over his shoulder, a faint smile ghosting on his lips. “I won’t mind, but that would be for my Supreme Leader to decide.” He chuckled a bit at that, before he raised a hand to bid them goodbye, walking back into the shadows where he came from. Saihara followed him with his gaze as he walked towards the entrance hall and out to the courtyard, wondering where the adventurer was off to. He had a feeling, however, that Amami wouldn’t so easily disclose that information.

“He’s fishy.” Harukawa stated, looking mildly frustrated.

“He is.” Saihara agreed, before he sighed and gave Harukawa an uneasy smile. “I apologize, Harukawa-san, for getting you a bit involved…”

“I wanna be involved. I want to be useful, too.” Harukawa insisted, as she fiddled with one of her pigtails, before shuffling uneasily. “So, how do you suppose we can… ‘keep everyone safe’?”

“Ah, I think keeping everyone in the same place would help. I’m worried about Yumeno-san and Chabashira-san honestly, since they were running around the halls the last time I’ve seen them. And tonight, Gokuhara-kun is a little…” the detective trailed off, gulping. “… well, _terrifying._ ”

“I can knock Gokuhara out no problem.” Harukawa said confidently. “We should take care of him first to make sure he doesn’t accidentally kill someone.”

“Y-You’re right…”

Finding everyone else in a campus filled with swarming, buzzing, _disgusting_ bugs was a nightmare. When they found Gokuhara, the entomologist was already agitated and distressed, sobbing and yelling for his bugs to come back to their cages. Apparently _someone_ opened the bug cages in his lab and poured the tree sap Gokuhara has been feeding them all over campus, making the bugs go into a wild frenzy trying to reach their food. As promised, Harukawa was able to knock the gentle giant (who wasn’t very gentle at that moment) out with a swift chop to the back of nape. With some difficulty, the two of them managed to carry him into the first floor of the dormitory building, which was surprisingly free of sap. By the time they were finished, Saihara’s shirt was sticky with perspiration, his breaths heavy with exertion. Harukawa, to his wonder, didn’t even break a sweat.

“Saihara-san, Harukawa-san! Hello!” A familiar voice said from upstairs. Saihara looked up, and there he was, the Ultimate Robot himself, walking down the stairs with a wide smile. The same smile suddenly faded as he processed the scene before him, staring at them with a confused expression, an arm half-raised in front of him. “Huh? What happened to Gokuhara-kun? Why is he asleep? Did something happen?”

Saihara smiled nervously. “Kiibo-kun! This is, ah…”

“Don’t worry. We aren’t planning to kill him.” Harukawa easily replied. “We’re just worried some accident would happen if we let him wander about, especially since his bugs are all over the academy.”

“He already knocked me out badly once before.” Saihara murmured, adding helpfully. The robot blinked, before nodding thoughtfully.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to imply you’d do anything like that,” he muttered, smiling apologetically. “Has everything calmed down yet outside? I was hoping I could help, at least somewhat, but I had no choice but to stay in my room. If bugs got into my chassis, getting them out would be a hassle for Iruma-san, so…” he trailed off and stared at his hand dejectedly.

“Ah, it’s alright, Kiibo-kun.” Saihara assured him, placing a finger underneath his chin. “So… I gather the dorm is a safe spot from the bugs then?”

“Absolutely!” Kiibo agreed, placing a hand on his hips and beaming. “At this point,the best course of action might be to go to sleep for the night. Maybe in the morning, the bugs will be less of a nuisance.”

“You’re right…” Saihara mused as he stared at Kiibo, lost in thought. _Something_ flickered in the robot’s eyes, _literally_ flickered, but it was so fast Saihara wondered if he had imagined it. Kiibo didn’t seem to be too bothered, so the detective decided to ignore that small detail. Maybe he just had a quick, minor glitch.

“The others are still out there somewhere…” Harukawa prompted, looking vaguely impatient. Saihara supposed it was time to venture out again, to try and find the others and help bring them to safety. Not just safety from some possible murderer, but safety from the bugs as well. He was about to nod and ask Kiibo to look after Gokuhara for a moment, but it was then that he remembered Momota’s words from yesterday, back when they were exploring the Ultimate Detective’s lab.

_“Maybe if we doubted people more, everyone who died… Maybe they’d still be alive.”_

The memory made him pause and glance at Kiibo, remembering the flicker he just saw. Call it a detective’s intuition, but he didn’t _trust_ that flicker. Harukawa was tapping her foot impatiently, waiting for him to mutter assent, but the detective found himself shaking his head and giving Harukawa an uneasy smile.

“I think… I’m going to watch Gokuhara-kun with Kiibo-kun here. Is that alright?” he asked, giving Harukawa a meaningful look that he hoped she’d understand. The assassin looked annoyed for a moment and opened her mouth to speak, but she eventually thought better of it and shrugged.

“Fine. I’ll be going outside to try and find the others. Stay here.” She replied, turning to walk out the building. Saihara hoped she wasn’t pissed.

“I saw Iruma-san enter the casino earlier. It seemed like the bugs were following her, specifically. I think the someone soaked her with sap or something.” Kiibo called out helpfully. Harukawa looked back and nodded. Saihara frowned.

_Huh… didn’t he just say he stayed in his room earlier?_

Saihara didn’t voice this question out loud. He simply sat down on the floor next to Kiibo as Harukawa left, letting his thoughts wander.

It must have taken Harukawa thirty minutes to pull a sobbing (and half-naked) Iruma inside the dormitory, and another hour to help Chabashira carry an unconscious Yumeno inside the building. The aikido master looked distressed as she surveyed her young mage for injuries (“I think she just passed out from fear, Chabashira-san.” Saihara assured her) and nearly hollered when she saw Iruma’s state of undress, giving accusatory glares at the _degenerate males_ that let such a _fair maiden_ be defiled by their _lustful, disgusting gazes_ \--- at that, Saihara flushed and looked away. He _had_ tried to dress Iruma, it’s just that the inventor was too terrified to listen to reason. Only through Chabashira’s gentle yet insistent remarks that she was finally able to relax, enough to let the aikido master walk her into her room for a change of clothes.

Harukawa didn’t come back after that for a long, long while. Even after Yumeno woke up, she was still nowhere to be seen, and Saihara was already getting worried. By the time it was past midnight, their classmates were already yawning and walking towards their rooms, bidding them goodnight. Saihara supposed that was alright, as long as they knew where they were, they won’t be in any danger. The bugs outside were already calming down anyway.

Harukawa came back fifteen minutes before the clock struck one, empty-handed, looking vaguely worried. Her cool demeanor was tainted by the faint crease in her eyebrows, as she glanced around, noting that most of their other classmates have already gone to bed. Saihara frowned.

“Is something the matter, Harukawa-san?” he asked, hoping that everything was alright, that she didn’t somehow find a body while she was out trying to find their other classmates. Harukawa turned to look at him, her tone mildly urgent.

“Did she come in here?” she asked.

Saihara blinked in confusion, tilting his head a bit. “Who?”

“Shirogane.” The assassin replied, biting her thumbnail. “I couldn’t find her anywhere.”

 

* * *

 

Amami Rantarou hated the Ultimate Academy at night.

It was just… so dark. And silent. Like purgatory. Like _death---_ stop. _Stop thinking about this right now, Rantarou._ He chided himself. _Tonight you’ve got work to do._

The Ultimate Adventurer took a deep, grim breath as he continued walking through the corridors of the academy, noting that the buzz from the bugs had already started to settle. Amami supposed that meant he was running out of time. Could he finish exploring the areas in his list? There’s a lot, so at this point, it was unlikely. His exploration so far has yielded interesting yet unsatisfactory results: there didn’t seem to be any secret passages around the Shrine of Judgement, but he _did_ discover three more of those muscular Monokuma statues underneath the fountain, and a mechanism that seems to be designed to lift them up. It looks like that the ringleader was expecting three more trials to happen, if the number was to be considered.

His prodding at the small latch they found at the main entrance hall proved more promising. It led into a cavern he didn’t realize was there, leading towards a door with strange symbols on it--- a certain emblem he couldn’t recognize, lined with astrological signs around the perimeter. A research lab, maybe, though Amami couldn’t imagine whose lab it could possibly be. He probably would have been more excited, if only the door wasn’t locked shut. Maybe Ouma could use his lock picks to open it sometime.

As he marked the places down with his marker, just as Ouma ordered him to, a part of him wondered what would happen if he _does_ uncover something tonight, and if it somehow gets him trapped in an unfortunate position. Well, it’s not like he’ll lose much if he died. It was one of the reasons why he didn’t really mind doing the more dangerous jobs: if he died again, it’ll just be fixing something inherently wrong with this world. He _does_ want to get out (or does he? _Shut up._ ), but he couldn’t deny that a part of him was… scared. He _was_ dead _._ He _should be_ dead. So what would happen if he left the bounds of the Killing Game? How can he walk towards the Outside World, and expect to _live,_ when it was Monokuma’s will that brought him back to life?

He sighed heavily as he fiddled with his rings anxiously. Being alone always brought these kind of thoughts to the surface, he just couldn’t help it. It was the reason why despite the unsavory looks the others are giving him, he actually _liked_ hanging out with Ouma, because the Supreme Leader’s grandiose personality was doing a remarkable job of distracting him from his own musings. Unfortunately, however, tonight he was on his own. It’s alright, he supposed. Ouma wanted to get out as soon as possible and the least he could do was help him however he could. If things end up the way he feared it would, and he _does_ drop dead the moment he stepped outside of this academy, at least he could get some solace from the thought that _some_ of the people he had grown to care for were saved through his efforts.

He didn’t want to be the _‘Ultimate Useless Older Brother’_ anymore.

Checking his list, Amami nodded to himself thoughtfully. His next target location was the girl’s restroom: the restroom that Shirogane allegedly went to, the one Monophanie prevented them from checking earlier today. Instinct told him _something_ had to inside there, and although the hunch was unfounded, his years of travelling alone in the cold, cruel parts of the globe has trained him to pay attention to his gut feelings. They may not be always accurate, but they’re quite reliable. His instinct has saved him from death countless times.

When Amami arrived at the door, he was glad to see that the area seems to be deserted. Even so, he still glanced around cautiously, making sure nobody was watching him. Not the bears, nor any of his fellow classmates. He wasn’t too keen on being accused of perversion after all. Once he deemed that the coast was clear, he walked closer and placed his hand on the door, biting his lip.

 _This better be good._ Bracing himself, he carefully pushed the door open.

As soon as he was inside he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. _Huh._ A strange feeling was welling up in his chest… anxiety? Nervousness? But… why was he suddenly nervous? The alarm bells in his head were ringing, for no particular reason. _Am I in danger?_ He looked around, warily, but there was nothing he could see that might pose as an actual threat. He was alone. _All alone._ Swallowing hard, he started his investigation. This was the first time he’s ever been inside a girl’s restroom, but it’s not like it mattered. The only difference it had from the boys’ was that there were no urinals to be seen. He walked around the area, checking the mirrors, underneath the sink, the cubicles, even behind the toilet bowls…

Nothing. Amami frowned. Maybe this place had nothing to offer, after all. Maybe Shirogane was actually innocent. He sighed as he entered the last place he has yet to check: the janitor’s closet. His eyes wandered around the small area, finding nothing interesting about the pails and the mops and plungers--- _Wait._ Amami frowned as a wave of dizziness hit him, the sudden headache making him stagger. This is… the janitor’s closet. _The janitor’s closet?_ Instinct told him something was here. Instinct also told him that he had to leave _now._ But why? Why was he feeling the insistent, _pressing_ urge to bolt and run? If something’s here _of course_ he had to press further! For Ouma’s sake. For everyone’s sake. _I’m not supposed to be here. She’ll be furious---_ SHUT UP!

_“I think the newer installments should have more references from the old games, you know? Kinda like going back to your roots---“_

**DELETE.**

Blank. _Fuck._ Amami wasn’t one for violence, but at that moment he was just tempted to punch the goddamn wall, because he knew something important was taken away from him… _again. What is happening to me? Why am I like this?_ He clenched his fists miserably, feeling frustration so intense he almost felt like he could cry. _What is_ wrong _with me?!_

 _Everything._ He realized. _I’m supposed to be dead._

Be calm. Be collected. Amami took a deep breath, as he focused on checking around the area inside the janitor’s closet once more. He wasn’t sure how, but he was certain: something _had_ to be in here. Maybe there was a button he had to push, or a latch that he missed. He braced his hand against the far wall as he glanced down on the floor tiles----

**_Click._ **

Amami looked up. _What was that?_ He looked around again, trying to discern where he sound came from, to no avail. Was he hearing things now? But wait, he heard it when he put pressure on the far wall so maybe…

Amami placed his hands on the wall once again, gently pushing. To his surprise, it gave with a faint mechanical sound, opening into a passage that wasn’t there before. Immediately, Amami’s head wandered back to the unfinished map of the school Ouma had shown him in his room earlier today. This spot should be pretty close to the basement…

He should be celebrating. It’s very possible that this is the secret passage they were looking for. But instead he felt… dread. It reminded him of the time he carried Ouma back to his room after visiting the Ultimate Inventor’s lab. There was just… _something wrong._ Something he couldn’t quite understand.

 _Leave._ His thoughts warned. He ignored it. The Ultimate Adventurer doesn’t let fear lay waste to his golden opportunities. All he needed to do was check. They would have no other chance to explore this place later on, after all. Swallowing his unease, Amami walked through the dimly lit corridor, careful to keep his footsteps silent. The passage was quite long, but soon enough he arrived at a metal door. By his approximation, this should be around the spot behind the library, but he just had to make sure… if he was lucky, maybe he could even explore the hidden room…

Carefully, he opened the door a sliver and peered inside, checking if the coast was clear. But it was then that he heard something that sent a chill down his spine.

Voices.

“How are the things out there, Motherkuma?” A familiar voice. Female. Amami’s eyes widened.

The voice that followed was slightly stiff, polite. _“Please do not call me that. I am merely speaking through the interface. Motherkuma, on their own, is a different sentient being.”_

A huff. “Who cares, it’s a program.”

_“I find that very AI-phobic, Shirogane-san.”_

_Shirogane Tsumugi_ . Amami clenched his fists. He couldn’t say that she didn’t raise his suspicions. She was one of their main suspects, after all. Someone who didn’t stand out, barely helped in the trials, and took pride in her _plainness_ … someone like her being the ringleader just sort of made sense. Amami was tempted to lean closer, try to hear the conversation better, but he knew he had to get out of here. He needed to get out of here _fast_. He has already finished his objective, and while listening further might give him some useful information, he wasn’t about to risk it, not when he didn’t have a Bugvac in his possession---

 _“The ratings have gone considerably high tonight. I have to commend Amami-san on this, he_ does _know how to keep the audience hooked. Though I don’t see any reason why he’d do something like this even while his memories are gone…”_ That made Amami pause. They were… talking about him?

A sigh. “Maybe he’s planning a murder already. Or doing one, at this very moment! That’s why you have to find him on the feed _now!”_

 _“I apologize. The bugs have done a number on our nanokubs… It will take some time to get them properly working again…”_ Amami leaned closer, intrigued by this information. So Ouma really was right, they watch them through some kind of nanotechnology… _Nanokubs? Like… small monokubs?_ There was a faint _tap tap_ sound behind him. Amami immediately looked back, feeling his heart almost jump out of his chest. But there was… nothing. He was alone. Was his nerves getting the better of him? _That can’t be good._

Shirogane sounded exasperated. “Well then, hurry up and fix it! I don’t pay you guys to slack off!”

A series of beeping noises. And then…

_“Shirogane-san… Monotarou’s camera seems to have spotted something mildly concerning.”_

The response was sarcastic. “Great. _More_ problems?”

_“Depends on how you take it.”_

It was then that Amami felt a sudden force push him through the door, creating a loud thud. He gasped as he fell down on the floor of the hidden room, panic engulfing him so fast he could practically _feel_ the adrenaline surge in his veins. In the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of red, and the same _tap tap_ sound he had noticed earlier. He realized too late what it was: footsteps from tiny plushy feet. Monotarou entered the hidden room in the same manner that he did, scratching the top of his head, looking clueless despite the fact that he just _pushed_ Amami into the room---

Shirogane stood up with surprise and indignation unbecoming of her _plain_ personality, practically shrieking. “What are you doing here?!”

Amami opened his mouth, and closed it, unable to speak.

“You’re not supposed to be here, Tarou!”

 _Tarou?_ Amami instantly felt confused. His heart was pounding so fast he was worried he’d start hyperventilating. _Stay calm. Stay calm!_ As soon as he started the chant in his head he realized that was stupid. How could he stay calm?! He wasn’t a stranger to these kind of situations, not at all. He had wriggled himself out of death’s grasp _countless times,_ after all. But these people we’re different. They could mess with him in ways unimaginable. They _brought him_ _back to life._

Pain. And this time Amami wasn’t surprised. He held his head miserably as he tried to compose himself, standing back up, trying to find a way to get himself out of this. _That’s it._ He had to lie. “I-I… found the secret passage… by accident.” He muttered, watching Shirogane’s face carefully. The lie was flimsy at best, there was no way it was an _accident_ , because the passage was in the girl’s restroom, for heaven’s sake---

But Shirogane didn’t seem to realize this. Her response made his blood run cold. It was more confused than bothered.

“You’re not supposed to remember this place.”

You’re not… supposed to _remember_ … What the hell does that mean? She said that as if… he _would have_ remembered, but just couldn’t. And the way she moved, she wasn’t threatened by his presence at all, no. The way she called him, so familiarly---- _Tarou._ It was an unfamiliar nickname. The only ones who call him familiarly were his sisters, and even then they call him Ran-nii-san, not Tarou--- No. Someone else called him that too. Who? _Huh?_ He staggered, feeling nauseous. _Huh? HUH?_

Straight blonde locks. Dazzling lavender eyes. An bashful smile. _“Tarou-kun! Let’s spend our free time together again!”_

Amami’s breath caught. _No! Stop thinking about her!_ He doubled over as an _agonizing_ headache wracked through his body, squeezing his eyes shut--- thoughts and images and memories flooding through him, and he couldn’t make sense of them all--- _Stop!_ He groaned in pain, falling on his knees, down on the floor… _The ringleader is right there! I need to get out of here! I need to tell Ouma-kun---_ Shirogane was staring at him with a look that was mildly concerned. Mildly concerned… _what?_ How could a twisted psycho like her, who would orchestrate a Killing Game without any remorse, who could show him _that motive video_ so coldly and brazenly, _dare_ to be look _concerned_ about him---

“What is happening to him?” Shirogane demanded. There was a beeping noise coming from the enormous Monokuma head in front of her---

 _“It’s the broken avatar. It was set so that his in-game character would suppress his actual personality, but since his in-game persona is considered “dead” in the simulation, his real memories are peeking through, creating a series of avatar errors. I believe it’ll be better if we just let him keep_ both _memory logs---“_

“No!” Shirogane insisted, looking a bit pissed. “He’ll just ruin this, I’m sure of it! Let him keep the broken avatar if he’s _so_ determined to be here.”

_“I believe it would be wise to take your contestants’ mental health into consideration this time, Shirogane-san.”_

“He’s been through this enough times, he’ll survive. Let him _suffer_ .” With that, she walked over towards Amami, towering over him, and he was groaning, the pain was _too much_ \--- “See what you’ve done to yourself, Tarou? Serves you right! Do you have any idea how many problems I faced just because you can’t shut up and _stay dead_? Do you have any idea how much reworking the script needed---“

Something in Amami _snapped._ The words were out of his mouth before he could even recognize them. Biting, rushed… _nonsensical._ “Of course I know!” Another wave of pain, another bout of agony. “But you left me no choice! You’re going to run this franchise to the ground! You can’t promise the audience something as flashy as a revival motive and _not follow through---_ “

Shirogane gasped indignantly. “This is _my_ season, not yours! You promised you won’t ruin this for me, Tarou!”

 _Promise? What promise?_ His head was spinning. Everything hurt. What was he doing? “Haaa… Haa… Shiro…” The nickname felt familiar on his tongue. “… Shiro…” Dying was almost _better_ than having to bear this pain. He fell on the ground, clawing helplessly on the floor… “…just kill me... already.”

A pause. She shook her head. “I _can’t_.” The way she said it, it seemed she was very disappointed of this very fact.

Amami’s vision was blurring. All he could hear were his labored breaths. Shirogane and the huge Monokuma head were talking again, but the words may as well have been gibberish, he simply couldn’t make them out. He was losing grip, losing consciousness…

Someone hovered over him. Blue hair like a curtain, tickling his shoulders. A soft touch against his cheek. A voice, cooing, almost condescending. “Don’t worry, Tarou. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

Amami opened his mouth to speak… before his lips moved into a faint scowl. “You bitch… I didn’t… promise you anything…”

Shirogane chuckled. “Aww~ and I was hoping you’d be too confused to figure that out.”

Amami closed his eyes.

“Goodnight, Tarou.”

Darkness.

 

* * *

 

**_“Umm… This is an official announcement from the Ultimate Academy. It is now 8 AM.”_ **

He opened his eyes. Blinked softly, staring at the ceiling.

**_“Where… did he run off to? Probably with some other woman, I bet.”_ **

His body felt… light. Almost _too_ light. And he felt fine. In fact he felt _great,_ especially since he could feel no headaches. _Huh?_ Since when did he woke up without headaches? It has become so usual to him that it was routine, ever since he was revived…

**_“But… that’s fine. As long as he’s happy, I’m fine with that.”_ **

He yawned, rubbing his eyes sleepily. The morning announcement was playing, so it must have been eight in the morning. Ouma said they’ll be meeting up at lunch, so he still had a couple of hours… maybe he should go back to sleep. He just felt _so sleepy._ Not necessarily tired, but sleepy. It must have been because he spent the entire night scouring the academy for clues last night. Yeah, he found out a lot, he found out the ringleader's _identity_ \---  

**_“Maybe not today… but someday, I’m gonna be happy too!”_ **

\--- or not. _Huh?_ What he find out last night, again? Ugh, it doesn’t matter. He just wanted to sleep. Just… two more hours. Or three. Or three and forty-seven minutes…

He closed his eyes, letting himself drift back… to a world where he didn’t have to worry about the past. A world where he didn’t have to worry about the pain.

He’ll feel better when he wakes up, anyway.

 

* * *

 

 **AVATAR REPAIR SEQUENCE.exe** <START>

Reconstructing… 67% complete.

_3 hours and 47 minutes remaining…_

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Shh…” His visitor placed a finger on his mask-covered lips, golden eyes sparkling, albeit sadly. He shuffled closer to his side and glanced over his shoulder, reading the lines of code he was working on. Last night was a busy one. The programmer barely managed to get a wink of sleep. Finally… _finally_ he managed to convince Shirogane that it was a bad idea to let the _stupid survivor_ keep the broken avatar--- they didn’t need another _Hanae,_ after all. Finally, he was allowed to conduct an actual repair of the errors that piled up one after another in response to the haphazard completion of the revival motive. Finally, he won’t have to patch up this glitch over and over again anymore---

He felt languid fingers against his shoulder, pressing, soothing. Massaging the knots of tension out of his body… he flushed. “S-Shinguuji-san. You don’t have to do that---“

“I insist. You’ve been working so hard for all of us. It’s the least I could do.” His hands were nice and firm. The programmer, despite the initial embarrassment, eventually relaxed in his touch, sighing heavily as he monitored the progress on the computer monitors. In the corner of his eye, he could see Shinguuji glance at the pods in the center of the room.

“Where are the others?” The programmer found himself asking. The hospital wing of Team Danganronpa’s building was quite far from here. He was actually a little glad that Shinguuji bothered to visit him, although technically the pod room should be off limits from anyone who wasn’t an employee. He hoped he won’t get into too much trouble. Companionship was something the programmer craved recently, especially now that he was behind enemy lines.

“They’re in the lounge again, unfortunately. Watching…” Shinguuji trailed off, before a hint of frustration passed on his face.

The programmer immediately felt guilty. “I’m sorry. I could’ve done something...”

“You did your best. And I’m grateful to be here… as myself. I only hope that we can get them back.” Shinguuji replied as he resumed his ministrations. “I feel especially bad for Akamatsu-san. After all she had to go through three years ago, she doesn’t deserve this one bit.”

“Once everything is over, we’ll get them back.” The programmer promised, determination filling his heart. They’re not a lost cause. They _can_ be brought back. He would know. He had worked with virtual reality simulators since before he could even walk. That’s why he can’t fail. He _mustn’t_ fail. For everyone’s sake. It was true he didn’t know all of them personally. It was true that if it wasn’t for this ordeal, this _crazy situation_ that they found themselves in, he probably wouldn’t even care about them at all. But they all shared a bond. They all fought for the same objective. And the programmer truly believed, from the bottom of his heart, that they shouldn’t be punished for speaking from their hearts. For wanting to change the world.  

 _We_ will _change the world!_ Ouma once said, grinning in front of him as he spread his hands out, proudly displaying his DICE uniform. _So you’ll totally join my organization, right, Tet-su-ya-chaaaan?_

The programmer, Iidabashi Tetsuya, sighed as he put the last piece of code in and pressed enter. In the camera feed, Amami sighed in his sleep, looking more refreshed than Iidabashi would want him to be. He didn’t know why Amami was hanging out around his Supreme Leader, but Amami spelled danger. He couldn’t be trusted. He _shouldn’t_ be trusted. Not after everything he’d done. Not after… everything he ran away from.

Iidabashi wished he could do more than leave an encrypted note and watch helplessly, but his hands were tied. He couldn’t risk anyone finding out where his loyalties lie. Everything is up to Ouma now.

 _Please remember me._ He chanted in his head. _Please_ trust _me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did... anyone see that coming? Iidabashi Tetsuya, in this fic? IT'S MORE LIKELY THAN YOU THINK. XD 
> 
> My writing time has been shortened recently, plus my mental health hasn't been the best, so I think I'm going to take a break from posting my longfics for a while. I wanna write at my own pace so I won't have to worry about late updates and I can make sure that everything is going according to plan. We are probably at the halfway or near the halfway point of the story, so I think this is a good place to take a break. I'll probably be gone for a month at least. I'll be back around Ouma's birthday, most likely (Can't miss my baby boy's big day! Woop! :D) . So until then... Later, guys! Thanks for supporting this story. :3


	11. “Don’t stop.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ouma and Momota and promises of the future: the calm before the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *crawls from my cave and whispers* I’m back bitches. 
> 
> Not that I was ever gone to begin with! XD I had a lot of fun writing ficlets and Vampire AUs and “Fixing What’s Broken”. Tbh I already have this chapter done like... a month ago (some of you guys may have seen my sneak peek in my tumblr), but I was hesitant to post it because shit is going to hit the fan soon and I wanna make sure this story doesn’t have any plot holes. was going to post this on Ouma's birthday... but I'm not sure if I can be online on that day, so yeah.

****_Creeeeeaaak._

The sound of the door slowly opening stirred Ouma from his sleep. The Supreme Leader blinked softly, noting that the lights were turned off. Which was weird, because Ouma didn’t like sleeping in total darkness. _Maybe Momota-chan turned it off,_ he reasoned, snuggling closer to the astronaut, loving the way their bodies fit like puzzle pieces, nice and snug and _safe_ and oh, _so comfortable_ . He didn’t think twice about the fact that a small sliver of light was sifting through the now open door, nor did he think about the soft footsteps that followed after. Because Momota was here, so what could go wrong? Well, logically speaking, _a lot of things_ could go wrong. But he just felt so _nice._ So safe. So comfortable. The specters embodying his fears and worries didn’t matter, neither did the monsters under the bed.

_Everything is fine._

Ouma hummed softly as he nuzzled against Momota’s chest. He didn’t think twice about the fact that he smelled like rust and salt, like the blood on the shirt Momota took off, blood that was red but then _wasn’t_ and _why is that blood pink, that’s so weird, that’s so, so weird---_

_Everything. Is. Fine._

Ouma swallowed hard. He didn’t think twice ( _Don’t think about it…. I said don’t think about it!)_ about the fact that Momota’s chest was damp. Damp like sweat. Damp like blood. The dampness clung to his cheeks and his clothes and it’s _disgusting_ and _oh my god why is Momota-chan covered in blood (he’s not he’s not he’s not he can’t be please)---_

_EVERYTHING IS FINE._

Ouma squeezed his eyes shut and didn’t think about the fact that he could hear no heartbeat. Didn’t think about the fact that the specter who was walking inside his room now sat on the side of the bed and caressed his hair. Didn’t think about the fact that the specter’s fingers were riddled with rings, cold against his cheek, and didn’t think about the fact that when the specter chuckled, his voice was that of a certain Ultimate Adventurer that Ouma had sort of _trusted_ but now _couldn’t_ because _don’t trust Amami don’t trust Amami don’t trust Amami---_

“Open your eyes, Ouma-kun.” Amami said, his voice brimming with kindness and care and brotherly compassion and _the devil was once an angel_ but Ouma didn’t want to think about it, no, he’s _not_ thinking about it--- _DON’T think about it!_ FUCK FUCK FUCK--- _is it you who are you WHERE ARE YOU why can’t I trust Amami-chan, please tell me… Please tell me, Tetsuya---_

Ouma opened his eyes. The lights were suddenly on. Momota was staring blankly at him with lifeless eyes, the end of a blade poking from his neck. His blood splattered and flowed all over Ouma, all over the bed. A cascade of red (pink?), red (PINK?), RED ( **PINK?** )---

_Momota-chan! NO!_

( **Don’t trust Amami. Don’t trust Amami. Don’t trust Amami.** )

_Don’t leave me…_

( **He isn’t dead. He isn’t. He** **_isn’t_ ** **. Please please please please** **_PLEASE_ ** **\---)**

Amami was chuckling.

**(I’m scared I’m scared I’m scared I’m scared I’M SCARED I’M SCARED I’M---)**

“You’re next… Ouma-kun.”

It took a moment for Ouma to realize he had bolted awake, screaming.

Shaking. Everything was shaking. Someone was shaking him.Strong arms engulfed him, whispers against his ear, trying to soothe him. Calm him. _Kokichi, wake up. Kokichi, I’m here. Kokichi, calm down. Kokichi, Kokichi… Kokichi!_

“Kokichi!” Momota was shaking him. “Kokichi, please, come back to me...” his voice was pleading. Ouma realized only then that his breaths were ragged, unfocused eyes brimming with tears that flowed down his chin. Terror. Pure terror. It was morbidly funny that the mere _suggestion_ that Momota would die and leave him alone was enough to turn Ouma into an emotional mess. Since when has he been this _weak?!_ He was the Ultimate Supreme Leader, for heaven’s sake! He was strong! He could take anything! But the thought of this _cold, cruel_ world taking Momota away from him after everything was just--- _unbearable._

Ouma let out a shaky breath as he tightened his fist against Momota’s shirt and buried his face in his chest, inhaling sharply. He’s warm. He’s alive. _Oh my god, he’s alive._ He barely realized he was sobbing, sobbing hard against his steady heartbeat, clinging to him as if he was a lighthouse in a storm. His only solace in this world filled with _death_ and _chaos_ and _murderers_ and _people who get off on it all---_

“Momota-chan… don’t leave me…” he whimpered, and immediately hated himself for it. _Supreme Leader’s don’t whimper._

“I won’t.” Momota replied, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m right here. I’ll _always_ be here---“

That sentiment was enough to make Ouma sob harder, thumping his fists against the astronaut’s chest, like a child pulling a tantrum. “We don’t know that, you space idiot! You’re fucking _dying_! Don’t make promises you can’t keep!”

“Kokichi.” Momota warned as he tried to catch his wrists. “Kokichi, hey…” Ouma ignored him, only hitting his chest harder. “Kokichi, look at me!”

Ouma looked up with a gasp, only to see Momota looking down at him with a concerned gaze, running a gentle hand against his cheek. The sensation made Ouma’s lip quiver, and he bit his lip hard, trying to keep more tears from escaping his eyes, wishing there was a way he could turn his emotions off _permanently_ , so he didn’t have to deal with this, with _any_ of this, anymore. Momota looking down on him like this with eyes filled with worry and concern and (dare he hope for it?) _love_ was almost _too much._ He wished he had met Momota somewhere else, _anywhere_ else, not in a Killing Game, not when he’s dying of some mysterious illness that’s _killing him slowly every day._ Letting himself fall for him was a big mistake. Momota was a heartbreak in the making.Even if he cares about him, even if _by some miracle_ he felt the same…

Something softened in Momota’s eyes. He swallowed hard. “Kokichi, I…”

 _Fuck it._ Ouma pulled him down by the collar and kissed him.

Ouma just had the time to see Momota’s eyes widen in surprise before he closed his own, ignoring the way the astronaut’s lips were frozen against his. _Let me have this._ He silently pleaded, as he rose to his knees so that he could press against Momota more effectively, coaxing his lips to move. _Just_ please _let me have this._ He pressed kisses on the side of his lips, not _daring_ to open his eyes, knowing how _horrified_ Momota would probably be to be kissed like this by someone like _him_ , how offended... how _disgusted---_

Momota kissed him back.

Ouma let out a stuttering, surprised gasp when Momota growled and pulled him closer, responding to his kisses compliantly. No, more than compliant, he was almost _eager,_ as if Ouma’s lips were everything he had ever wanted and _more_ , as if Ouma was an oasis in the middle of the desert, and he wanted to _drink_ him in, _consume_ him, _take_ him--- Ouma was prepared for rejection. The harsh slap of reality. He was _not_ prepared for _this,_ whatever _this_ was, but he couldn’t stop. He wanted to keep going, take advantage of whatever permission Momota was currently giving him, enjoy it while it lasted, because it _will_ end, this bliss _was_ short-lived, and sure enough as he felt himself getting more and more lightheaded, he realized the end is closer than he wanted it to be.

The next few seconds were heaven. Ouma almost wondered if _maybe_ passing out just to continue this kiss was _worth it._ But reason overcame everything else as he pulled back and gasped, cheeks flushed, breathing hard against Momota’s lips. Momota... who looked at him with those wide magenta eyes. Momota, whose chest was heaving as if he just ran a marathon. Momota who was staring at him with that indescribable emotion brimming in his eyes _._ When he spoke, his voice broke, and he had to clear his throat for a moment. “K-Kokichi... what---“

Panic. The coward in Ouma laughed nervously. “That didn’t happen.”

Something flashed in Momota’s eyes: disbelief. He scowled. “Kokichi, it _did_ happen---“

“S-Shut up!” Ouma yelled as he practically _jumped_ out of the bed, hands shaking, but now for a different reason altogether. Momota opened his mouth to speak but before anything could come out of his mouth, Ouma was already bolting, wanting to be _anywhere_ than right here, under Momota’s scrutinizing gaze. It was probably instinct from spending so much time in the love hotel, but the best place his flustered mind could think of was the bathroom. And so, like a prey running away from some kind of predator, Ouma scampered off, running inside and locking the door behind him, curling up in a ball as he processed that _oh my god, I kissed Momota-chan, he kissed me back, what the fuck happened, I don’t understand---_

Momota was pounding on the door. Ouma covered his ears and shut his eyes, wanting to shut the world out, but he could still hear Momota curse from the other side of the door, yelling. “Kokichi, open the door! I swear to god, if you don’t---“ there was a strangled noise as the rhythm of his pounding stuttered, and when he started speaking again, there was a certain shake in his voice, almost pleading. “Kokichi... _please_ , open the door.”

Blinking at the sudden change in demeanor, Ouma removed his hands from his ears, frowning. “Momota-chan...?”

Momota let out a shaky breath. His voice almost sounded... scared. “Just... come out, Kokichi. This situation is making me a little nervous...”

 _Nervous?_ Ouma realized it just then, that this was not unlike the time he drank that poison in the love hotel. Hearing the hurt in Momota’s voice at the memory sent a stab of guilt through his chest, the realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. _I’ve done something very cruel to Momota-chan._ Momota Kaito, _admitting_ that he felt nervous was something. Any other time, it would have impressed Ouma a little bit, the fact that Momota grew somehow, in his own way. The fact that he was no longer shying away from showing weaknesses of his own, no longer caged in by his _perfect hero_ persona. But at that moment, he was more concerned about _how to remove_ that hurt from Momota’s voice, how to make up for all the shit he put him through, how to undo the damage he had wreaked upon him.

Swallowing his trepidation, Ouma stood up and opened the door, running straight into the astronaut. Momota let out a surprised yelp as Ouma hugged him tight and buried his face in his chest. His whole body was tense, and Ouma wanted to sooth it, calm him down, get him to relax, like Momota did every time the Supreme Leader was experiencing emotional turmoil...

Ouma bit his lip bitterly. He didn’t know how. Instead he nuzzled against his chest, tightening his embrace as he mumbled. “Sorry.”

When Momota spoke, he sounded confused. “Sorry?”

“I never did get to properly apologize about it, didn’t I? The whole... poison incident.” Ouma hesitated. “Let me make it up to you.”

The snort Momota let out was almost mocking. “The last time you said that, you made me a promise that you eventually _broke_ , Kokichi. You’re really opening up that line of topic right now?”

Ouma bit his lip. He was right. He was _so_ right. And Ouma couldn’t help it, he really couldn’t, the guilt that ate at his heart. “That’s the point.” He found himself saying. “I wanna make up for everything I did in the love hotel. Distrusting you... lying to you... playing with your feelings... _everything_.” He glanced up at him warily, only to see that Momota’s eyes had darkened, casting him a smoldering gaze that was almost terrifying if it wasn’t so captivating. Ouma’s breath caught in his throat.

“Playing with my feelings... huh.” Momota said as he leaned down, taking his chin. Ouma’s eyes widened, wanting to look away but couldn’t, as Momota’s eyes showed tiniest hint of hesitation, before hardening yet again into a determined stare. “That kiss _happened._ ” He insisted, as if daring Ouma to disagree, but the Supreme Leader only squeaked in response as Momota started kissing at the side of his lips, making a hum in his throat that sounded mildly frustrated. “ _This_ happened, too. And _this,_ ” he kissed his jaw. “And _this,_ ” he kissed down his neck. “And _this---_ “ a bite. Ouma whimpered. “It _all_ happened! Don’t you _dare_ say it didn’t! I’m so...” Momota let out a shaky breath as he pushed Ouma away and ran his hand across his face. “ _God_ , I’m so confused _..._ what the fuck are you doing to me, Kokichi?”

Ouma’s face was on fire. His knees felt weak from the kisses, and trying to keep his composure so as not to crumble into a mess on the ground was taking a _tremendous_ amount of effort. He didn’t know what to say, or _think_ , or feel--- Momota was in front of him, looking somewhere between pained and frustrated and flustered. Ouma hesitated. “Momota-chan, I...”

Momota held up a finger and Ouma immediately held his tongue. “Look.” The astronaut started, looking a little fed up. “I’m... I’m sick of this. I’ve already embarrassed myself too many fucking times and at this point I don’t really think it even matters anymore. I... I _like_ you.” He couldn’t meet his eyes. “I mean--- I _think_ I do? It feels a _lot_ stronger than ‘like’ but I’m not about to say it’s ‘love’ when I know you hate that shit. My point is--- I _can’t_ deal with things like that. Teasing me, flirting with me, _kissing_ me--- _stop_ doing shit like that if you’re just going to run away and _not take responsibility!”_ He was rambling, and Ouma had enough time to see his flushed face before he completely covered with his hand. “And _fuck_ , I just said that didn’t I? Someone should just fucking kill me right now--- oh, right! Something is _already_ killing me, isn’t it?” he let out a dark laugh. “I... I don’t want to distract you, Kokichi. I really don’t. And I don’t want you to feel weird around me either. But---“ he cut off sharply as he licked his lips, removing his hand on his face and letting out a heavy sigh. “Fuck it.”

Ouma felt dizzy. He wondered if he was dreaming, if this was some sort of cruel nightmare, giving him something he wanted only to take it away from him in the worst way possible. But when Momota stepped closer towards him again, he was warm, and good and _real_ \--- the finger stroking on his cheek was real, the hand snaking on his waist was real--- Ouma’s breath hitched when Momota swooped down to kiss him again. His lips were slightly dry and cracked from talking too much, but Ouma didn’t mind. The kiss was slow and sweet, making the Supreme Leader shudder in delight. He didn’t know such sweetness existed, and he hated and loved it at the same time, the way Momota held his frame tenderly, softly, as if he was something precious and fragile. An ice sculpture, maybe, that can easily melt and break in the heat of his arms. Ouma _did_ feel like melting, breaking, as Momota finally pulled back to breathe, looking conflicted.

“You’re not acting like you want me stop.” Momota whispered. The silent question was there: _Do you feel the same? Do you love me back?_ But Ouma didn’t know how to respond. He didn’t know _how_ Momota could do that, willingly tear his heart out to let him see it. He willed himself to say something, to tell him that _yes,_ he does, but the words died in his throat. This was simply too good to be true. Ouma bit his answer and simply clutched at Momota’s shirt, as if holding the words back could fool the cruel universe, this cruel world that was always, _always_ against him, taking away everything and everyone that ever brought him happiness.

Momota was staring at him expectantly, waiting, _hoping._

“Don’t stop,” Ouma pleaded.

Momota’s expression softened with understanding. He leaned down and kissed him again: tender, loving kisses that left Ouma breathless, craving for more. He didn’t know when Momota carried him off to the bed, but somehow he was already there, sandwiched between the astronaut and the soft covers of his mattress, reveling in the feel of his body against his. The first few touches were tentative, as if Momota wasn’t quite sure what he was doing, hesitating every once in a while along the way.It started from his jaw, running down the length of his neck, tracing the indents of his collarbones that peeked through the ragged edges of his neckline--- Ouma sighed against his lips, encouraging him to go further, running his hands along his nape to pull him closer. Momota shivered, before letting out a moan that was so quiet and yet so _obscene_ that it went straight to Ouma’s groin. Momota started to pull back, but Ouma was already whimpering. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop---“

“Shh... I’m here.” Momota assured him as his fingers uncertainly brushed against the latches that held his shirt together, looking up at him for permission. Ouma found little reason for embarrassment as he nodded, transfixed by the way Momota’s eyes lit up, the way he carefully undid his shirt, the way he caressed the milky white skin underneath. This wasn’t the first time the astronaut has seen him half-naked, but it made Momota’s face flush all the same, biting his lip and running his tongue against it in a manner that was so _sexy_ it made Ouma groan.

“You’re so...” Momota trailed off as he traced a finger on the length of his sternum, breathless. “... pretty.”

Ouma swallowed the embarrassing moan that threatened to escape him. “And you’re so sappy.” He snapped.

Momota laughed as he scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed. It was so cute. Ouma’s mouth went dry.

“Are you going to continue or are you going to bore me to death, Momota-chan?”

Momota hesitated as he circled his finger on one of Ouma’s nipples absentmindedly, unaware of the tremor it sent through the Supreme Leader’s body, unaware that it was taking every _goddamn_ shred of self-control he had to keep himself from being a moaning mess. “Are we really...” Momota started, before shrugging. “You know, going to...?”

Ouma felt the expression drain from his face. _God,_ what has he been doing? Insecurity overcome desire as he looked away, resisting the urge to cover himself. “Well... if you don’t want to, then---“

“No!” Momota suddenly said, looking a little panicked. “No, I want to. It’s just that... I’ve never...” he trailed off as he played with the hem of his shirt, looking uncertain.

Ouma’s eyes widened, genuinely surprised. “Momota-chan... you’re a virgin?”

Momota’s cheeks went beet red. “S-So fucking what?! A man isn’t defined by how many people they’ve fucked---“

Ouma blinked at the defensiveness and giggled. “Momota-chan, I wasn’t questioning your masculinity. So calm the fuck down.” At that Momota flushed even harder, embarrassed. Ouma leaned up and supported himself by the elbows, smirking at him. “You kiss well for someone who claims to be a total virgin at least. You’ll do fine. Though if you really are worried about your performance, then...” he leaned over and placed a sultry kiss against Momota’s neck, making the astronaut melt. “I can teach you a few tricks.”

“I-I...” Momota stuttered, before swallowing hard. “I’d like that.”

Humming in response, Ouma took over, pushing Momota onto his back and straddling him by the hips accordingly, something he’s done to people countless times. But no, he didn’t want to think about that, not when Momota was sprawled wide-eyed underneath him, lips parted slightly, breathing raggedly in a way that betrayed his excitement.Ouma couldn’t blame him, he was pretty excited himself--- perhaps a little _too_ excited. When Momota’s eyes looked down at the arousal tenting in his pants, his eyes darkened with lust, and Ouma simply couldn’t help the strangled moan that tore its way out of his throat, closely resembling a whimper. He tugged at Momota’s shirt impatiently.

“This.” He started, voice low and commanding. “This has to go.”

Momota nodded. He bit his lip as he grabbed the hem of his shirt to lift it up---

And that was when Monokuma appeared out of nowhere, screaming bloody murder.

 

* * *

 

Truth be told, Momota was tempted to grab the bear by the ear and throw him out of the room about five minutes ago. If only hurting the headmaster wasn’t against the school rules.

He was just.... _so_ pissed off! Did he really _have_ to interrupt them?! They were getting somewhere, _finally_ getting somewhere, and Momota would be a liar if he tried to deny that being touched by Ouma that way wasn’t something he’d thought about the last few days. Not to mention that the bear was getting more and more annoying by the second. The last thing Momota needed after such a huge wave of sexual frustration was a long lecture about sex, protection and wonders of abstinence, all wrapped up with the statement: “Well if you _really_ can’t keep it in your pants, do it in the love hotel, you kinky bastards!”

Ouma was mumbling under his breath all throughout that lecture, asking Monokuma to leave every five seconds. By the time the bear finally relented, satisfied, the two of them were already far too irritated to keep any of the mood going. Ouma in particular looked ready to murder someone, as he buried his face in his pillow and _screamed_.

Momota lied down on the bed next to him, now unsure what to do. He simply stared at the ceiling uneasily. He didn’t want to talk about the prospect of getting a love key or doing _it_ in the bathroom... he didn’t want to look too eager. And it’s not like that’s the only thing he wanted from Ouma, anyway. Having the privilege of kissing him and touching him was more than enough in his book. Although the more he thought about it, the more the reality of the situation was slowly dawning on him. _Oh god, I confessed. And Ouma, he..._ His eyes widened, the realization sending a stab of insecurity in his chest. _He... didn’t say anything._

Momota bit his lip, troubled. Surely, Ouma responding positively to his kisses meant something? Was that the Supreme Leader’s attempt at saying yes, or was that simply a lapse in judgement? At that moment, watching Ouma melt against his arms was enough, but now that his head was clear he realized: he _wanted_ an answer. A verbal one. He wanted to be certain. He wanted to be sure...

He laid on his side and placed his hand on Ouma’s back, making him stiffen. Ouma sighed as he slowly relaxed, rolling onto his back to give Momota a frustrated look that was so cute the astronaut just had to chuckle.

“Maybe next time...?” he offered.

Ouma’s cheeks flushed slightly, but he rolled his eyes. “I’m not that desperate.”

Momota bit his lip as the urge to kiss him again hit him, but he decided that if Ouma’s lips were busy, then they wouldn’t be doing any talking. He sighed. “Hey, Kokichi.”

There was a look that passed Ouma’s face, a look of understanding. Momota had the feeling the Supreme Leader knew _exactly_ what he was going to ask about. He made a strained smile. “Yes, Momota-chan?”

 _Momota-chan._ Momota frowned, turning the nickname over and over in his head. _Momota-chan, Momota-chan..._ it sounded so impersonal. It’s what he called nearly everyone else in this goddamn school, their last names.It’s as if they weren’t close at all. They _were_ close, weren’t they? Close enough to kiss and fuck, apparently. Momota gave him a disapproving look. “Call me something else.” He demanded.

Ouma’s eyes widened, but he tilted his head, considering it. “Kaito,” he murmured.

Momota’s heart skipped a beat. Ouma seem to notice his reaction, smiling slyly.

“Kai-chan?” He tried, as if asking for his opinion. Momota scowled.

“You’re really never going to get rid of that cutesy honorific, are you?”

Ouma giggled. “Never.”

Momota sighed. There really wasn’t anything he could do with that, was there? He checked the clock: it was nearly eight in the morning. The morning announcement would start soon, and his sidekicks would expect him to be there for breakfast. If he didn’t ask about this now, he’d never get the chance to, and this will probably bother him all throughout the day. Momota hesitated.

“Hey, Kokichi.” He started again.

“Yes, Kai-chan?”

Momota couldn’t help the blush at the thought that if Ouma was going to call him that from now on, everyone would become aware that something about them was going on. It was probably time to have that talk with Harukawa he’s been putting off for a while now. Ouma was still staring at him expectantly, waiting, and Momota wondered if he already had an answer prepared in his head, written down like a script, words that were doomed to either make or _break_ Momota’s heart.

He decided the swallow the trepidation forming in his chest, nearly choking the words out. “ _What_ are we, Kokichi?” he asked.

Ouma, the fucker, had the gall to put a finger on his cheek innocently. “What are we? We’re humans, obviously! Unless Momo--- _Kai-chan_ has been lying to this whole time, and he was actually an alien from space?”

Momota groaned. “Kokichi, you know what I mean. Please just---“ he sighed heavily. “Just answer the _damn_ question.”

“Romance has no place in a vile Killing Game.”

Momota let out a strangled noise, the rejection hitting him like a slap in the face. He looked away, feeling stupid, as he bit his lip and tried not to think about the moisture threatening to build in the corner of his eyes--- He cleared his throat. “Right... you’re right---“

“ _Kaito,_ look at me.”

Momota gasped as slender fingers tugged at his chin, forcefully making him meet determined lilac eyes. Ouma looked so serious at that moment, Momota almost didn’t recognize him. His usually teasing expression was filled with something else he couldn’t fathom, a certain _fondness,_ as if he was trying to say _I love you_ with his eyes alone. Momota didn’t understand. He was a straightforward person, he simply couldn’t _stand_ mixed signals. But it was when Ouma spoke again that he finally understood the meaning of his words.

“A liar’s promise meant nothing... but will you believe in me again, Kaito?”

Momota swallowed hard. _Romance has no place in a vile Killing Game._ Ouma’s eyes were sad, but it was twinkling. Words that was left unsaid lingered in the between his lips and the stars in his eyes and quirk of his mouth, a _promise._ Once they get out, once everything was over....

Momota scowled as he held his wrist, glaring at him. “I’m not letting you get away with not saying it, Kokichi.”

Ouma winced at the sudden force, but eventually he giggled, as he leaned in and kissed Momota’s cheek. “ _This_ isn’t a lie.” He whispered, giving Momota a sense of déjà vu. He looked up at him slyly, before kissing the side of his lips. “Not _this_ , either.” He kissed his jaw. “Not _this_ ,” his neck, “Not _this_ ,” his shoulder, “Not _this.._.” his collarbone. By the time he was done, Momota was already blushing and Ouma was giggling candidly. “None of it is a lie, Kai-chan! I’m completely yours...” he smiled sadly as he kissed his nose, sweetly. “... but only if you survive till the end with me.”

Pure elation burst in Momota’s chest, his determination to survive only getting fueled with those words. He leaned down and kissed Ouma yet again, hopeful for the future, of what’s to come. He tried not to think about the fact that they were fighting an uphill battle, that the outside world was supposedly destroyed, that there were still a lot of mysteries they had to solve. If it meant making Ouma _his_ , he’d make the impossible _possible,_ dammit!

When he pulled back he was grinning.

“I’m holding you to that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What should we get Ouma for his birthday? An almost boyfriend. XD Haha


	12. “What kind of adventurer are you if you start acting like Yumeno-chan?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DICE, amnesiac adventurers and nonexistent robot dicks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a writer's block and it's frustrating but I know what can take me out of it. 
> 
> Spoiling my wonderful readers! XD 
> 
> Thanks for the continued support and thank god I'm still ahead a few chapters so here it is! <3 Hope you guys like it~!

“So I know we’re not... together _together..._ ” Momota started uncertainly as he wore his jacket, getting ready to head into the dining hall for breakfast. He had a problematic look on his face. “But am I still allowed to kiss you?”

“Kai-chan, stop distracting me.” Ouma scolded as he surveyed the photographs in front of his whiteboard, deep in thought.

“You could just answer me.” Momota insisted. Ouma glanced back over his shoulder again to see that his cheeks were slightly flushed. _Cute._ He scratched the back of his head.“I mean... we _were_ kissing, yes... but that was more of an ‘in the moment’ thing... I just wanted to know if I’d be kneed in the gut if I ever tried any of that again.”

Ouma sighed as he placed his whiteboard marker down, rolling his eyes at Momota’s antics and walked over towards him, pulling him down by the collar. Momota yelped and sputtered, only to have his eyes widen when Ouma pressed his lips against his. It was chaste, a quick peck, nothing too fancy, but Ouma felt like cursing himself for the flutter it sent down his chest, actively suppressing the blush that threatened to crack his mask of composure. This thing with Momota was still too precious and _new,_ he could really hardly believe it. And while he hadn’t given his heart away yet, not really, the fact that he’d locked it up and given Momota the key was still _fucking terrifying._

When Ouma pulled back he was grinning, eyes sparkling. “Does that answer your question?”

Momota flushed and nodded, unaware of the storm brewing inside Ouma’s heart. Momota didn’t need to know that Ouma was, at the very back of his head, still contemplating escape. That was a problem the Supreme Leader needed to solve on his own. In a sense, giving Momota this privilege was his own way of ensuring that he _himself_ wouldn’t run away from this promised relationship, when it comes. He figured if Momota was given a trial period, he wouldn’t stop until he’d gotten the full version.

But that was a problem to ponder for another time. For now, Ouma had other, _bigger_ problems to solve than his own commitment issues. He let go of Momota’s collar as if he just discarded a piece of used tissue, looking back at the whiteboard. “So that’s that! Kai-chan should just leave and reassure his sidekicks that he’s not dead yet. Meanwhile, I’m gonna stay here and reconsider some of the stuff we found out last night.”

Momota hesitated. He opened his mouth to say something, probably scold him for skipping breakfast, but when his eyes snapped back to the note under Amami’s picture, he thought better of it. “I’ll bring you breakfast.” he decided.

Ouma grinned widely at him. “Aww, that’s so sweet! Thank you, honey!”

Momota’s eyes widened and blushed as he mumbled profanities under his breath, but it didn’t go past Ouma’s notice that he didn’t complain. As the astronaut left looking more red than he should be, Ouma allowed himself smile stupidly, just for a few fleeting seconds, before he pushed the reset button on his emotions and stared at the information in front of him with a calculating gaze.

 _Don’t trust Amami,_ the note said.

 _Can I even trust the goddamn note?_ His thoughts countered.

Good question. _There are two possibilities,_ he thought as he drew two arrows underneath the note. On the end of the first one he drew a small doodle of Monokuma’s stupid face. _It could be the ringleader, trying to drive a wedge between me and my allies._ He mused as he drew an x on Monokuma’s right eye. _But that would mean that they knew how to read and write in my code, and that’s troubling._ Indeed it was, because all the important documents he had written thus far were encrypted like this. If it was the ringleader who sent this, then that meant that he had been under their thumb all along without realizing it, merely a child deluding himself in the idea that he could stand a chance from the _big, bad Ringleader---_ and that was irritating. And impossible. This was a code he had made himself, _nobody_ else but the people he trusted should know this. He had considered the idea that maybe Momota had messed up and accidentally left the cipher key and the booklet in the love hotel for the bears to discover--- but no, Momota had denied it last night, saying that he had destroyed those items out of irritation shortly after he had given Ouma the antidote.

 _So, it’s the second possibility that’s more likely, then._ Ouma relented. But this second possibility made him hesitate. An indescribable feeling surged inside his chest, and he bit it back, because emotions can do you no good in a logical endeavor. Regardless, he wrote it: four letters that had meant his world, since before this Killing Game started.

_DICE._

_DICE... might be real... maybe._ His heart pounded in his chest. He never trusted those flashback lights, not really, and upon figuring out that the motive videos shared the same properties with it, he decided not to trust his motive video anymore either. Despite the fact that he could remember every smile, every laugh and every prank he had pulled with his beloved subordinates in those funny, clown uniforms, he had decided to consider them strangers. _Nonexistent_ until further notice. The fact that they might be real, that they might be out there, and that they might be _suffering_ out there--- Ouma didn’t know if he should be relieved or horrified. What kind of leader leads them into this _mess?!_ What did they ever do to deserve this?! DICE was all about survival and happiness, and having fun, and hurting no one, and _changing the world---_

 _Changing the world._ Ouma blinked, feeling as if he had struck a chord within himself. _When was DICE about changing the world?_

It has always been, he realized. Because this was a cold, unforgiving world. A world filled with death and chaos and murderers and _people who get off on it all---_

Ouma blinked a few times, hesitating. He stared at his whiteboard for a moment... before he immediately started digging through the desk on his bedside, looking for his kubs pad---

 _“_ Got you.” Ouma murmured as he immediately turned it on, impatiently waiting for the tablet to boot up, bracing himself once again for the images about to meet his eyes. He took a deep breath and restarted his mantra: _Think objectively, think objectively..._ When he opened his eyes he was met with starting image, Monokuma’s voice speaking, grating and unpleasant against his ears...

 **_“Alright! Back by popular demand, it’s time for the motive video! Who’s the most important person in_ ** **your** **_life? And now without further ado...”_ **

Ouma bit his lower lip, tightening his hold on the tablet, eyes searching...

**_“Ouma Kokichi, the Ultimate Supreme Leader... He caused mayhem the world over as the leader of the secret organization, DICE. And by “mayhem”, I meant petty nonviolent crimes and harmless pranks.”_ **

Ouma tapped his foot on the floor impatiently.

**_“Anyway, Ouma-kun had ten loyal goons working for him.”_ **

Ouma closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

**_“These goons were like friends and fa---“_ **

He turned the video off and tossed the tablet towards his bed, the multicolored piece of bullshit bouncing on the mattress for a bit before resting beside his pillow.

 _I was right._ Ouma realized as he caressed his temples, unsure how he should feel about this sudden discovery. The fact that he hadn’t noticed it before despite watching the video so many times only proved to display how much the motive video _really_ affected him emotionally, how seeing his subordinates in such an unfortunate situation struck such a deep gash of _despair_ in his heart. He stared back at the note, helplessly. _I was right. I was_ so _right._ He walked closer as he circled the word DICE, ever determined.

 _Ouma-kun has ten loyal goons working for him,_ Monokuma said.

So why did the video only show nine?

 _Someone’s out there._ Ouma decided as he erased everything he had written, just to make sure the ringleader wouldn’t catch on. _Somewhere out there, I have another ally._ That has to be it. The missing DICE member. But who was it? Ouma racked his brain desperately, trying to remember. _Who are you? Why can’t I trust Amami-chan?_

There was just so many mysteries to ponder, so many questions left unanswered. Questions like: how did the note got in? Where was the sender? Were they outside the End Wall? Was the outside world _really_ destroyed, or was it another lie? If it was a lie, then how did Monokuma manage to make such a convincing scenery? If it was the truth, then where was the audience, or do they even exist? If they didn’t exist, then what’s the whole point of making this a Killing _Game?_ How was Amami revived? _Why was that blood fucking pink?_ And why didn’t Ouma notice it before?

There was _one_ possibility that Ouma had been considering for a while now, but the first time it hit his mind he had thought it was _stupid._ Wishful thinking.But now... not quite so.

The Supreme Leader sighed heavily as he stacked each and every one of the questions into a neat little pile and filed it into a dossier in his head to examine for later. For now, he had other pressing matters to take care of, and that included a certain strawberry blonde-haired inventor that may or may not end up killing him in the next twenty-four hours. Ouma bit his lip as he considered his options. Iruma was an important piece... a _powerful_ piece... and even now Ouma was hesitant, so _hesitant,_ to let such a valuable pawn go to waste.

He _needed_ her.

Suddenly, he knew what to do. He took a deep breath and shouted. “Monokuuuuuma! Come here, you stupid bear!” When nothing happened for a moment, he rolled his eyes and stared at his fingernails with a bored expression. “Come _on,_ I know you can hear me, if you saw Kai-chan and I humping each other then _I’m sure you can see me._ ” He flashed a knowing grin. “You can’t pretend to care about personal privacy and shit now, you pervy creeper.”

As if on cue, Monokuma appeared from nowhere ( _literally from nowhere,_ Ouma mused. _Where the hell do they sprout from?!)_ looking down, as if embarrassed. He eventually raised his claws defiantly as he screamed. “Hey! This bear ain’t gonna be called a pervert! It’s not my fault you kids can’t keep in your pants!”

“Right, right, whatever. So is it okay for me to be talking to you in private like this?” Ouma asked as he went towards his desk and picked up the card key, playing with it absentmindedly on his fingers.

Now Monokuma looked interested, as he placed his paws in front of his mouth. “Technically, it’s not a rule violation...” He said, perking up when he saw the card key in his hands. “Oh, look! I’ve been wondering where that motive went! Aren’t you even going to try and use it?”

Ouma stared at the card key, before staring at his fingernails once again, choosing his words carefully. Monokuma didn’t know they already opened it, he knew. Monokuma didn’t know that he’s seen the motive. But he’s certain that the bear doesn’t underestimate him, so instead he decided to roll with what he has. “Ahaha, you don’t get it. A crazy motive like this should be used in a more dramatic way... no?”

Monokuma seem to lag for a moment, a lack of action that Ouma was fond of interpreting as surprise from whoever was controlling the damn ursine, before he looked interested yet again. “Oooh... so that’s why you were missing last night...”

Ouma placed his hands beside his head, grinning. “Nishishi! I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he claimed, as he put a finger on his lips. “Anyway, I’ve been thinking a lot about this, and I tried coming up ways to use it... I finally came up with an idea. This is my proposal, so listen up!” he said the next words carefully, watching Monokuma, knowing his reaction to this proposal could be valuable information. “A _certain someone_ is planning something interesting, so if we use the motive there, then I think it would really spice up the killing game!”

Monokuma was staring at him with a head tilted, contemplating. Ouma grinned widely, _deviously,_ a grin that was so full of malice, he could see the bear slowly turning giddy from excitement.

“So,” Ouma prompted. “Are you in?”

“Upupupu.” Monokuma chuckled. “I was starting to wonder if you’ve lost your touch after the love hotel incident, but count me surprised! Ouma Kokichi... you really are an evil bastard.”

Ouma smirked.

_You have no idea._

 

* * *

 

When Momota opened the door to the dining hall, he wasn’t surprised to see Gokuhara in the corner, looking utterly dejected as their classmates tried to console him. Momota had seen the havoc the bugs from last night wreaked upon the academy--- the hallways were still filled with bug wings scattered about, and he could see an uneaten blob of sap or a bug corpse every once in a while. He actually felt a little bad for the entomologist, he had to admit, Amami had gone _all out_ with his bug distraction. But he didn’t apologize, lest he be taken as the likely culprit for last night’s events. The way Gokuhara’s face was constantly changing from bitter despair to righteous anger told him that wouldn’t be a good idea.

Momota was grateful that the dining hall looked far better than the rest of the school, though that was probably because it was off-limits at nighttime. Momota greeted the group with a big smile, sitting down as Saihara burst through the door with Harukawa trailing behind him, looking around---

“Shuuichi! Over here!” Momota called out, and the detective looked utterly _relieved_ to see him safe and sound, so much so that it made Momota feel a little uneasy. Was that really how much they distrusted Ouma? Well, not that he could blame them, honestly, since Ouma had given meticulous effort in driving a wedge between him and the group, to the point of making himself out to be the bad guy countless times. Momota still remembered the time Ouma _strangled_ him in the love hotel, the first time he tried to crack him, making that scary face and scary smile that was _so_ filled with malice that even he was almost convinced--- _almost._ He could only imagine how things could have been, if he didn’t push through Ouma’s masks, if he didn’t try to get know him, if he just gave up on him like everyone else did...

_“I’m completely yours... but only if you survive till the end with me.”_

His lips threatened to break into a smile. Momota couldn’t help it. He was giddy.

It was then that Saihara looked around curiously, curling a finger underneath his chin. “Huh? We seem to have some people missing... Where are Amami-kun and Ouma-kun?”

Momota pressed his fists together and grinned. “Amami’s probably sleeping in, and Kokichi’s busy in his room. Don’t worry! I’m just gonna bring him breakfast later.”

To that Harukawa gave him a look. “Since when do you bring breakfasts to that bastard?”

Momota frowned at the venom in her tone, but before he could reply in defense of his... _kind-of-but-not-yet-lover..._ ( _Shut up Kaito, you can’t blush in the middle of the dining hall, have some fucking dignity_ \--- _but it was only if I survive so what if I don’t and what if this illness kills me--- Shut up! Hold your head high! You’ll survive, dammit!)_ Saihara was already nodding before looking around, troubled. “I see. And Iruma-san...?”

“Tenko checked up on Iruma-san early this morning!” Chabashira cheerfully replied as she put her hands in front of her in an eager pose. “It seems she was heading towards her lab to work on some more of her inventions, so Tenko decided to let her be! Iruma-san is so admirable, working so hard! But of course not as admirable as my adorable Yumeno-san!”

Yumeno blushed as he clutched at her chest. “Nyeh... stop complimenting me...”

“I see!” Kiibo said brightly. “I saw many half-built machines in her lab when she performed maintenance on me.”

Did Momota imagine it, or did Saihara stare at Kiibo for just a little longer than necessary?

“Well, messing with machines and computers is all about she’s good for.” Yumeno commented. “I’m glad that she’s back to her old self though, she was really scared from last night...”

At the mention of what happened last night, Gokuhara burst into tears. Yumeno, Shirogane and Kiibo immediately went back to consoling him, saying stuff like: “If I had enough mana, I’d bring all your bugs to life!”, “This was just _awful_ , I’m so sorry, Gonta.” and “I’m terribly sorry for what happened, Gokuhara-kun, I’m sure we’ll find out who did it!”.

At that last statement from the robot, Momota and his sidekicks shared a look. Momota’s was pleading, as if telling them to _please guys just keep what you know to yourselves,_ Saihara’s looked more determined, as if he was willing to interrogate Momota until he could figure out what the whole deal about last night was, while Harukawa’s was utterly fed up, as if she’d rather be _anywhere_ than right here, dealing with the shit Ouma’s antics had roped her in.

The rest of the meal went by peacefully. As soon as people finished their breakfasts and started dispersing, Momota slipped inside the kitchen to get some pancakes with some eggs and a couple of fruits ( _Kokichi should really eat more, he’s so fucking small,_ he thought) but he didn’t realize by then that his sidekicks had followed him inside, with Saihara leading the front and Harukawa guarding the door, trapping him in.

Momota swallowed hard. He was hoping he could delay this talk for just a little while longer.

“So,” Harukawa started. “Tell us what’s been up, Momota.”

 

* * *

 

 _Kai-chan is taking a while._ Ouma thought as he finished the last of his negotiations, glancing at the clock to see that it was already ten in the morning. Around this time, the students should have finished breakfast already, and Ouma couldn’t imagine what would distract Momota so much that he’d forget to bring back the breakfast he promised. Maybe he’s been held up by something, or maybe a new problem within the group, or a new motive---

 _No,_ Ouma realized, remembering the excitement in the bear’s face when he left his room earlier. Monokuma must have already known that something was going to happen soon. Motives are for when the bear was being desperate, but right now, Monokuma was convinced that everyone was obediently following the song of death he was playing throughout this cursed academy... and that he was about to lose another dancer very soon, just like he wanted. Whether it was Ouma or Iruma or someone else didn’t really seem to matter, just that it was _death_ , and that it was interesting--- as if death could ever be entertaining. It made Ouma sick, but also a little relieved. Monokuma was still acting the same. Monokuma was still _determined_ to make the game interesting. That must account for something, right?The wasteland he had seen on the other side of the door last time simply _did not_ hold to scrutiny, the more Ouma thought about it. One of these days, he needed to go back there and recheck. But he could only do that if his plans would go smoothly.

 _Maybe it would be better to talk to Kai-chan about this._ He thought, chewing on his thumbnail. Momota would probably be a little surprised, if not proud, of the route he decided to take, though he’d still be pissed that Iruma even thought about murder in the first place. At least now, Ouma wasn’t panicking. At least now, he knew _exactly_ what to do. It was a bit cruel to Iruma, maybe, but honestly? The alternative was much, much _worse._

If he didn’t have Momota... he probably would have decided to get rid of her. It was because he had allies that he knew he’d have someone to continue his work if he ever failed. If he didn’t have that, then just the quick analysis of the cost-benefits would tell him that he’d _have_ to kill Iruma, whether he liked it or not. The thought sent a chill down Ouma’s spine.

As determined as Iruma was to get out, Ouma had spent enough time with her to know she was a _decent_ person. Not exactly a good one, but it wasn’t her fault that she was a fucking coward.This was... a betrayal, and it _hurt,_ and he was _so angry,_ but he couldn’t bring himself to hate her, not really. This was a Killing Game, and didn’t Ouma betray Momota once too? If Momota can look past that, Ouma was willing to look past this too, _for now._ Because Iruma was useful. Iruma was smart. And now, more than ever, now that he was slowly getting suspicious of the nature of this world... he _needed_ her talent. He _needed_ her help.

And if she wasn’t going to hand it over willingly, well... Ouma was nothing if not a master manipulator.

A master manipulator with a currently growling stomach. He groaned.

 _Arrgh! Where’s Kai-chan?!_ He thought, more worried than irritated. Letting out a childish huff, he stood up and pouted, opening the door of his room and deciding to go into the dining hall himself. He hesitated as his eyes glanced at Amami’s door, wondering if the adventurer was alright, wondering if he was even in there, _alive._

_Don’t trust Amami._

The message nagged at him. But so far... Amami really hasn’t done anything that would warrant suspicion and distrust, has he?

_Are you going to wait until he does?_

Ouma bit his lip, feeling his heartbeat quicken. He was reminded of dark rooms and silent footsteps... of bloody astronauts with fucked-up necks... a kind chuckle that was so full of malice that it gripped his heart and squeezed it out of his chest---

_“You’re next... Ouma-kun.”_

Ouma let out a shaky breath and shook the dream out of his head. Those were irrational fears, he knew, brought out by his less than stellar upbringing, the paranoia of being betrayed. He knew he couldn’t afford to be trusting in a Killing Game, but now he was aware that being _too_ distrusting wouldn’t do him any good here either. If he didn’t have Amami or Momota’s help these last two days, he would have ended up bedridden, _useless._ He would have drowned in his own irritation and self-loathing, unable to do _anything._ It would have killed him inside. It would have frustrated him. But now... he had a team. A small one, but it’s working. It was DICE all over again, almost. So unless Amami does something really suspicious, Ouma decided he’d take a page from Momota’s book and _trust_ . Amami had _never_ lied to him before, he knew. He _genuinely_ wanted to get out, _genuinely_ wanted to catch his killer and _genuinely_ wanted to be useful to him. But if Amami lied so well that even Ouma didn’t catch it, then...

 _Stop. Stop this line of thought._ He scolded himself. If he kept thinking about this, he’d just end up going in circles. _Trust Amami-chan, for now. He’s very useful. I can’t let go of him yet._

Hesitantly, Ouma inched towards the adventurer’s room door... and knocked.

Silence. Not even shuffling from the other side. Ouma frowned. He figured Amami would be a light sleeper, considering his talent. He knew he told him to meet him at lunch, and he must be exhausted, but so was Ouma, and it wouldn’t hurt to check on him a bit, see if he was still intact. The Supreme Leader pressed his ear against the door before he knocked again, this time louder.

A groan. A creak of the mattress. Mumbling. The next thing he knew the door was opening just a sliver, and Amami peeked out, rubbing the drowsiness out of his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was rough, a little frayed around the edges. “Mhm... Ouma-kun?”

Ouma stared at him with a wary gaze. There was nothing different about him, he was just regular old Amami. He absentmindedly wondered what exactly he was expecting: that he grew horns and bat wings in the last twelve hours? _Amami-chan would make a hot demon, at least._ He thought in morbid amusement, as he pushed the door open further, walking inside like he owned the place.

“Good morning, my beloved Amami-chan! Did you sleep well, how was last night?” he asked, as he looked around the room, finding nothing out of the ordinary. He found himself questioning the note sender once again. _Who are you? Why can’t I trust Amami-chan?_

“Yeah, I’m just...” Amami started as he sat down on the bed and clutched a pillow to his chest. “Really sleepy...” as he said that he looked like he was about to doze off, and Ouma stifled a laugh as he snapped his fingers under his nose, trying to bolt him awake.

“Geez, Amami-chan!” Ouma giggled. “What kind of adventurer are you if you start acting like Yumeno-chan?” he teased. Amami blinked a few times and gave him a dazed smile.

“Sorry. I don’t know why I’m so tired... no, not tired...“ he yawned hugely. At this point, Ouma was starting to get a little uneasy. Amami looked a little _too_ sleepy, a little _too_ out of focus. Which was strange, because Amami himself had told him that he was used to getting sleepless nights, being an adventurer and all. Was this alright? Was this normal? Wasn’t this a little out of character for him? _No, you’re just overthinking it. Amami-chan is fine._ The Supreme Leader scolded himself. He was just high-strung because of the whole note dilemma. Amami being sleepy wasn’t suspicious at all. It just meant that he was... _well,_ human, and had physical needs that he needed to attend to.

Right... Nothing suspicious. _Right._ Amami was fine. He wasn’t untrustworthy at all---

_Wait._

Ouma placed an innocent finger on his cheek, trying his best to hide the unease now threatening to cripple his rational thinking skills. He giggled... fakely. “Amami-chan is so silly, wearing his shoes to sleep.”

Amami blinked, before looking down and realizing he was right. He let out a chuckle. “Oops. Must have forgotten about it...” he frowned as he removed said shoes, looking a little conflicted. “I could’ve sworn I... no, I passed out in my bed last night, I guess.” He sounded unsure.

His uncertainty only fanned the flames of suspicion eating away at Ouma’s chest. “You don’t remember passing out?”

Amami laughed. “More like, I don’t remember coming back in my room in the first place.” He shrugged. “Just too tired, I guess.”

Ouma swallowed hard. He grinned as he held Amami’s hands and pulled them up childishly,gravity riding his loose sleeves up his forearm, catching the adventurer by surprise. “I see! I’m sorry for putting _sooo much_ work on Amami-chan’s shoulders! But that’s what you get for being my underling! You gotta get used to it, nishishi!” Discreetly, Ouma glanced down at the inside of his arm. The ink was already faded, but he could see the list Amami showed him last night, with the first two places scrawled out. _~~Shrine of Judgement- Fountain. Main entrance hall.~~ Girl’s restroom 1F. Artist Lab. _ He felt dread trickle down his gut.

Amami frowned at his antics. “Ouma-kun. You’re acting strange. Is there something wrong?”

 _You tell me._ Ouma wanted to say, but he bit his tongue. He giggled. “Wrong? What wrong? Nothing’s wrong! Everything is just _peachy!_ ” He made a strained smile. “Well, since I’m so excited and all, why don’t Amami-chan tell me what he found out last night?”

Amami hesitated as he stared at him, looking a little bothered, but he replied anyway. “Well... a lot of interesting things, actually. I couldn’t find the...” he looked around a bit uneasily, as if hyper-aware that their conversation might be monitored. “I couldn’t find the thing we’re looking for. But I found statues under the fountain... and a research lab underground...”

“Anything else?” Ouma pressed.

Amami shook his head.

Ouma grinned widely. “Did you mark the places you went to like I asked you?”

Amami’s expression brightened. “Yeah, I did.”

“Did you draw dicks on the doors _like I asked you_?”

Amami laughed without missing a beat. “Oh come on, Ouma-kun. You can’t possibly be serious about _that_. Of course I didn’t.”

“Aww come on! I was so hyped up! We designed a robo-dick for Kiiboy and everything!” Ouma’s heart was pounding. Grinning _hurt._ “Where did you hide the beta designs? I told you to keep it, didn’t I?”

Amami looked confused for a moment, before he checked his pockets, coming up with nothing. He looked troubled. “I must have misplaced it...” he trailed off.

 _No you didn’t._ Ouma thought. Because the beta designs didn’t _exist._ They never talked about that. Not ever.What was happening? Ouma instinctively stepped back. He wanted to get out of here. _Fast._ The entire room suddenly felt suffocating, and when he realized he was taking gasps that was a little too shallow for his liking, he immediately knew he couldn’t stay here any longer. He let out a strangled laugh.

“W-Well! Never mind that! It was trash, anyway.” He easily replied as he gave Amami a playful salute, hoping he didn’t notice the shaking of his hands. “I’m hungry, I haven’t eaten breakfast yet, so just... go back to sleep and we can continue our chat at lunch! See you later, Amami-chan!”

Amami frowned, looking concerned. “Ouma-kun---“

Ouma didn’t hear him anymore. He immediately ran off to the door, scampering like a scared little rodent, feeling as pathetic as one. There was only one thought playing over and over in his head like a broken record as he burst out of the dormitory, less bothered by his empty stomach and more concerned with the way his hands were unable to stop shaking, just wanting nothing else but to find Momota and bury his face in his chest. Just one thought, over and over and over, making his blood run cold.

_Amami-chan has been compromised._

 


	13. “Since when do you take orders from him?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ouma recruits a new member on his team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been so long since I updated this, but don't worry, I'm alive! The writer's block was just awful, so awful, and in the past month (or two) all I've been posting are chapters that I've finished a long time ago. 
> 
> I hope the wait didn't make anyone less interested in the story! <3
> 
> By the way, I'm already back to school, so recently (as posted in my tumblr), I've decided to make an Update Schedule. Every Monday at 10 PM AEST (granted this is an hour late but shhhh), I'm going to post *something*. Key word here is something, because I have a lot of ongoing fics hahahaha... But I guess I'm giving you guys a heads up that you can check this fic every monday for updates, if you have no AO3 account and/or are not subscribed. So hooray for that! 
> 
> Anyways! Back to the story.

 

Before they could even start their conversation (or _interrogation_ , Saihara mused), a voice resounded from the dining hall.

“Kai-chan?” it was small. Meek. Familiar yet unfamiliar. Momota immediately turned his head in its direction, alarmed. He looked awfully worried, a sudden stubbornness settling in his jaw, as he stared at Harukawa (who was still blocking the doorway) with a hard expression.

“Harumaki, let me out.” His tone was serious.

Harukawa faltered for a moment, but then she huffed. “So you can run away from this conversation _again?_ No.”

“Look, Kokichi is just outside in the dining hall. If you guys really wanna know what’s been happening, it’s best to ask when he’s around.”

To this the assassin looked irritated. “Since when do you take orders from _him?”_

“I don’t take orders from him! We're not—” Momota cut off when he saw Ouma peek his head in from the door, slipping under Harukawa nimbly as he made his way towards the astronaut. A wide grin split his lips, giggling in glee (relief?) as he approached Momota and immediately hugged him by the waist (in a very affectionate manner, Saihara noted). Momota flushed a bit (he didn’t... complain?) as Ouma nuzzled his face against his back instead, because Momota was still carrying the tray of food (that he was planning to give the Supreme Leader anyway).

Saihara’s head was spinning with so much information from that one simple exchange. Something between them has changed, he realized, and perhaps it wasn’t that obvious to the usual observer, but the detective’s keen eyes could tell. Their body language has changed somewhat, as if they were less hesitant of their movements around each other, as if they were more appreciative of each other, as if they were... as if they were...

Saihara’s eyes widened. _Oh._

Looks like it wasn’t only Momota who had feelings for the Supreme Leader. It seemed that even Ouma was smitten as well. What _the hell_ happened in the love hotel, for them to get so damn attached to each other? Saihara would be a liar if he said he had no idea. No, he had a _lot_ of ideas, but none of them made sense. None of them sounded... plausible.

 _Or are you_ _just_ _that hesitant to trust in Ouma-kun?_

“Kai-chan!” Ouma’s voice was muffled from the way he pressed his face against Momota’s back. “Finally found you! You were taking too long. I was _soooo_ hungry!”

 _Kai-chan._ Saihara sighed. _The nail on the coffin._

Ouma finally pulled back to give Saihara and Harukawa a very fake smile, though he didn’t remove his hands around Momota. “Soooo! To what do I owe the honor of starving me of my breakfast? Whose idea is it to corner my beloved Kai-chan like this? Harumaki-chan? Shumai-chan? You guys are so mean!” Crocodile tears edged at the corner of his eyes. “Isn’t it enough that you guys waste _sooo_ much of his time? Fuck off already!” There was a distress in his voice that Saihara couldn’t place. Saihara was about to reply, but Momota was already on it, scowling a bit, despite his eyes growing concerned.

“Kokichi.” A warning. Ouma glanced up at him, tightening his hold on his jacket, before looking away, glaring at Harukawa’s direction.

“Killer girl wants to gut me!” Ouma hollered. “Oh, or maybe she wants to strangle me again!”

Harukawa’s eye twitched as she took a step closer. Ouma looked panicked for a second, quickly moving over Momota’s other side, putting the astronaut’s body between them. The two of them held a hostile stance for a moment, until Momota finally sighed, looking fed up.

“Stop it, Harumaki. He’s just...” Ouma pulled out his tongue at the assassin. Momota groaned. “Look Kokichi, I’m not your fucking babysitter.” he sounded exasperated. “Can’t we just tell them? This is starting to get ridiculous.”

“What, so killer girl can do her killer-girly things and stab me in my sleep?!” Ouma said childishly. “No thank you!”

“Kokichi...” another warning. “Harumaki isn’t a bad person.”

Ouma glanced up at him with determined lilac eyes, and Momota stared back with an unfaltering gaze. It was almost fascinating, the way they seemed to have a silent conversation right then and there. Saihara felt an unease grow in his heart, reminding himself of his own lost love for Akamatsu, but that didn’t matter now. That didn’t matter anymore.

“Look, isn’t Saihara in your ‘trustworthy’ column?” Momota said. Saihara had no idea what he was talking about, but the sound of his name pulled him out of his reverie. The news that Ouma considered him anything close to trustworthy was surprising, especially since the Supreme Leader never showed any signs of ever opening up to the detective, regardless of how much he tried.

Ouma chewed on his lip, glancing up at Saihara. He hesitated, but finally he replied. “Yes. But so was Amami-chan.”

Momota looked a bit uncomfortable at that, for reasons unknown. But he was Momota Kaito, and just as fast as his mood plummeted, it picked right back up. He grinned, and Saihara had no doubt that if he wasn’t carrying that tray of food right now, he probably would have pressed his fists together. “Well, I trust them!” he exclaimed so eagerly, it made Saihara flush. From the corner of his eye, he could see Harukawa fiddle with her pigtail. “What kind of hero doesn’t trust their sidekicks?”

Ouma rolled his eyes. “A smart one.”

“Hey!”

“Good for you being a beacon of belief as usual, Kai-chan, but I simply _don’t._ Trust. Or _like_ —“ another pointed glare at Harukawa. “Them.” Ouma finished, looking deadly serious.

Momota’s smug smile was impossible to miss. “But you trust _me_ , right?”

Ouma’s expression broke, before he mumbled something that sounded like “unfortunately”. Momota’s smile widened to a grin, as if he’d just waged a war and won. It wasn’t until Ouma finally sighed and stepped away from the astronaut did Saihara really understand what their whole argument was about. The Supreme Leader _almost_ looked anxious, as he took an apple from Momota’s tray and turned it around on his hands. He looked like he was contemplating something, until finally his lilac eyes hardened with determination, and he grinned, widely, before taking a big bite off the fruit.

“Well...” he stated, speaking obnoxiously with his mouth full. Saihara wrinkled his nose in distaste. “What are we all waiting for here? Time to go to the base of operations!”

Saihara frowned, confused. “Base of... what?”

Ouma swallowed down the apple and grinned. “Well, my room obviously! We’re all going to play a game!”

Harukawa looked irritated. “You’re still not going to take this seriously, are you? We don’t want to play _any_ of your games. We just wanna know what’s going on.”

“Oh, Harumaki-chan could bail, I couldn’t really care less.” At the sound of the nickname, Harukawa’s glare intensified. But Ouma seemed not to mind, as he peered his eyes over to the detective with a sly, knowing expression. “But I figured Saihara-chan would be plenty interested! I bet he’s already _so damn curious_ about what’s happening right under his nose! A detective’s curiosity is never sated, isn’t it, Saihara-chan?”

Saihara glanced at Harukawa (who was an inch from fuming), to Momota (who looked oddly excited) and then back to Ouma, whose gaze was challenging, reminding him of the games they played in their free time. It was almost as if Ouma was in front of him again, brandishing a knife, announcing their last game... _I stole your heart, so now I’m satisfied!_

Saihara remembered Momota, the contentment lingering in his eyes. Ouma never stole his heart, not really, but apparently he managed to steal someone else’s.

 _(and_ _perhaps_ _he did it not with a knife, but with a bottle of poison)_

 _I’d trust him with my life._ Momota had said, so sure of himself.

Saihara made a cautious smile. “What would the game be, Ouma-kun?” he asked, surprising Harukawa, and maybe Ouma as well, with the way his eyes widened for a split second. The Supreme Leader grinned even wider, excitement evident in his eyes.

“Oooh! Saihara-chan is being assertive! That’s not boring at all!” He replied, placing his hands behind his head. “Well, it was just a simple one, really, my beloved detective!” his grin widened, as he leaned in, placing a finger on his lips deviously.

“It’s called... ‘ _Tell me how you can be useful to me’.”_

* * *

As soon as Momota and Ouma left towards the direction of the dormitories, talking and bantering along the way, Harukawa pulled Saihara into a corner.

“I’m not coming.” She declared, dead serious.

Saihara blinked, before frowning. “Are you sure, Harukawa-san? I mean, I'm sure being left in the dark could be rather jarring, to say the least—“

“I’m used to it. Do you think I know the story behind every person I ever killed? No. I’m given orders, and I fulfill it. That’s the whole point of an assassin. That’s the whole point of _me._ ” To that she frowned, fiddling with the ribbon on her uniform yet again. Saihara almost told her that no, she was _more_ than just an assassin, that beyond her talent she was Harukawa Maki, the person, but he felt tongue-tied, knowing that giving advice and comfort was not his strong suit . Harukawa shrugged as she continued. “Besides, he hates me. It’s obvious. The feeling is mutual. He’d _never_ want me around, and I don’t want him around me either.”

“He... you mean Ouma-kun?” Saihara asked. Harukawa nodded.

“Look: I just don’t want you two to get into trouble.” She replied with a small pout, staring at the floor. “I... you guys are... well...” she hesitated. “You guys are... important to me, I guess. I don’t want that bastard to pull you down. Ouma seems to care a whole about that idiot now, but he’s a liar. I don’t trust him.” he red eyes flashed murderously. “If he ever brings both of you _any_ harm, I’ll kill him.”

Saihara swallowed hard, before chuckling nervously. “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that... maybe Ouma-kun here is being sincere for once. The two of them seemed to have gotten a whole lot closer since the Love Hotel motive.”

Harukawa’s eyes glazed over for a moment, nodding thoughtfully. Her gaze turned a bit more wistful, as she shifted her feet with unease. “There is... another reason I don’t want to come.” She confessed.

“Oh?”

“I’m not a masochist.” Saihara’s eyes widened at the implication of his words. He stuttered a bit, tempted to ask, but Harukawa seemed content to leave it at that, as she was already walking away.

“H-Harukawa-san?”

“If you need something done, I’ll help.” Harukawa called out, looking over her shoulder with a very faint smile. “As long as you guys know what you’re doing.” And with that, she finally left, turning around the corner, leaving Saihara reeling. The whole thing was... quite troublesome, but if Harukawa was taking it easy, then he supposed he shouldn’t make a big deal out of it. For now, he had a Supreme Leader to confront. _Finally,_ he had the chance to figure out what the fuck he’s been up to. Finally, Ouma was willing to let him in, or at least he hoped so.

Sighing, he continued on his way to the Supreme Leader’s dorm, where Ouma said he’d be waiting for him.

Despite everything, the detective in Saihara was very, very excited.

* * *

“Are you alright?” Momota asked, glancing behind them. Saihara and Harukawa seemed to be in the middle of a thoughtful conversation, so he decided it was a good time to check on the Supreme Leader’s well-being. He was acting... a little off since he arrived at the kitchen earlier. His voice sounded distressed when he entered the dining hall, and when he saw Momota, he immediately hugged him and buried his face on his back, something he wouldn’t do if he was feeling alright, especially not with Harukawa and Saihara around. Something was wrong, but as usual (so usual that Momota was already feeling fed up with it) Momota had no idea _what_.

“Hm?” Ouma hummed. He clung to Momota’s upper arm as they walked, moving his feet dramatically with each step. He wasn’t meeting his eyes. “Of course I’m alright, Kai-chan! Why wouldn’t I be?” he replied cheekily.

Momota sighed as he tightened his grip on the tray of food. “I don’t fucking know. There’s a lot of shit going on and... I wouldn’t blame you for feeling overwhelmed. Hell, _I’m_ overwhelmed too, and I don’t even know half the things you’re probably keeping from me. You got that secret mission thing going on with Amami, and that breakdown you had about Iruma’s laptop... you _really_ shouldn’t keep it all to yourself, Kokichi. It’s not healthy.”

Ouma’s humming only heightened in volume, approaching obnoxiousness. Momota rolled his eyes, already used to his subject-avoidance tactics.

“Look.” Momota started as they exited the school building, looking up at the sky. The dome has always unsettled him, and remembering the crimson, lifeless atmosphere they saw outside—it only reminded him of something he had always suspected: that the skies above were fake, and that they were truly and completely caged in, just like the bars and the end wall suggested. He sighed. “I’m not going to force you into doing anything you don’t want. But... I’m really happy that you’re willing to take a chance with my sidekicks.”

That was when Ouma finally spared him a glance. His eyes looked troubled, but there was a grin on his face. “Well, of course! I’ve always wanted to get Saihara-chan on my side—” he paused for a moment, and Momota noted that he didn’t look too eager to say anything about Harukawa. “ _Aaaaand,_ at this point it’s not like I have a choice. Kai-chan is right after all: having allies _is_ beneficial. And since Amami-chan isn't going to be useful anymore, I need a replacement for him.”

To this Momota stared at him, surprised. “Wait. Wait a fucking minute, what do you mean? We aren't even sure that note was right."

“Oh, but it is.” Ouma said as he fixed his eyes on the distance, coldly. “Amami-chan has been compromised. I’m not sure what happened last night, and I’m not sure what they did to him, but one thing’s for sure: Amami-chan is no longer reliable. I—”

“But he’s your _friend._ ” Momota said indignantly. “You can’t just ditch him like that!”

That seemed to hit a chord. Ouma’s expression faltered for a moment, and he swallowed hard. When he replied, his voice was determined, almost frantic. “ _Exactly_ why I need to ditch him. I don’t want him to get in any more danger than I already brought him. It’s not fair for the ringleader to play with his head like that. And I’m not even sure if they’re the one doing it—Amami-chan has always been insecure about his memories since he was brought back to life.” He bit his thumbnail. “A-And if they could play with his head like that, who knows? What if they could force him to kill too, or force him to sabotage our plans, even if he didn’t want to—”

“Wait. Wait wait wait _wait._ ” Momota said as he hastened his footsteps, stopping in front of Ouma to pull him out of his rambling. He gave the Supreme Leader a look, confused. “Something happened, right? _What_ happened? Tell me.”

Ouma hesitated as he glanced back. Saihara was still out of sight.

“It’ll help if you get it out of your chest.” Momota encouraged. Ouma looked like he wanted to argue, but eventually he frowned and let out a sigh.

“You’re too into the whole ‘talking out your feelings’, thing. It’s kinda irritating.” He snapped. Momota laughed.

“Deal with it. When I make you mine, you’re going to have to deal with a whole lot of that shit.” He fondly replied. The slight flush that crept up Ouma’s cheek was very satisfying. But soon enough he was caught back in his thoughts, as he nibbled on his thumbnail again.

“I checked on Amami-chan a while ago.” He confessed. “He’s acting... weird.”

“Weird.” Momota echoed. Ouma nodded.

“He said he checked everything last night, but the list on his arm suggested he was only halfway done. He said he was used to sleepless nights yesterday, he took pride in it as an adventurer, but he looked a little _too_ sleepy earlier . If he was drugged or something, I wouldn’t be surprised .” Ouma closed his eyes and let out a heavy breath. “And there’s the thing: I told him about something that never really happened, but he instantly jumped the gun and agreed to it, completely convinced . It’s like his head just made sense of my lie and created memories to fill the gap I suggested, and it’s...” his voice lowered to a whisper. “It’s... _creepy._ This has never happened before, and I’m scared.”

Momota shivered. _Now_ he understood why Ouma looked so unsettled. Even Momota would be scared too. “Should we... confront him about it?” he asked. Ouma shook his head.

“I don’t want him to get into any more trouble. It’s obvious and I get it: for some reason, Amami-chan is on the ringleader's hit list. And if he gets involved in any more suspicious stuff he might get killed again, or _worse._ ” Ouma replied. Momota wondered what was worse than dying: to Ouma, it was probably _killing._ Momota hesitated, now unsure what to do. What the hell even happened to Amami, really? Forgetting his talent, then dying, getting revived, memory lapses _,_ and now _this?_ It just seemed so over the top. He gave Ouma a look. “Why... is this even happening to him? It’s just so weird, Kokichi. Are we even sure this has anything to do with the ringleader at all? Sure, sometimes Amami just really... kind of freaks me out. But being manipulated like that by the ringleader... isn’t it kinda impossible?”

Ouma bit his lip. “I have a theory.” He admitted. “And if my theory is right, it’s _definitely_ possible.” He looked troubled. “It would explain _everything._ Everything that’s been weird about this whole academy. But I don’t have evidence for it. Not yet. As for Amami-chan’s memories...” he trailed off, licking his lips. “Have you seen optical illusions, Kai-chan?”

Momota nodded, though he wasn’t sure why it was relevant to this conversation.

Ouma continued. “Optical illusions work because the brain has a habit of tricking itself. When things don’t make sense, it fills in the missing information, to the point of sometimes even _creating_ the missing information, or altering the person’s perception of reality. I _think_ Amami-chan’s brain might be working the same way. Something happened last night, and the memories were deleted, but his brain was still reaching out for all the missing tidbits, trying to make sense of what happened.” At this point he looked like he was rambling, really not caring if Momota was listening anymore. “If he was in his room then he _must have_ walked there. If his shoes were still on then he _must have_ passed out from exhaustion. If the night already went past then he _must have_ finished scouting all the other areas I asked him to. If I told him the robo-dick beta designs _existed,_ then it _must have_... and if it was gone then he _must have_ misplaced it...” His eyes widened as if he had an epiphany. “If that was the way he was programmed, maybe that’s the way we’re all programmed too.”

Momota frowned, lost. “Uhh... Kokichi?”

Ouma was silent for a long time. Suddenly, he looked up at him, an odd expression on his face. Momota could almost see the gears in his head turning. “Momota-chan, what’s the color of blood?”

Momota frowned, unsure about why he’d ask such an weird question. “It’s red, obviously.”

“Obviously _..._ ” Ouma trailed off, but strangely enough, he didn’t sound like he agreed. Instead, he looked oddly amused, as if he just realized something. “You’re right, Kai-chan. Blood is red , _obviously_.”

Momota tilted his head, uncertain. “Am I... missing a joke, Kokichi?”

Ouma giggled. “Nooopee~! My beloved Kai-chan didn’t miss anything at all!” he exclaimed as he clung to his arm and continued on walking, as if nothing had happened, as if they were doing nothing but walking all this time. Behind them, Saihara was already catching up, and just before he was within earshot, Ouma glanced at Momota and flashed him a smile. “Next time you cough up, I want you to show me the blood.”

It was an odd request, but Momota nodded all the same. “Why would you be interested in it, anyway...?”

Ouma shrugged. There was a smirk playing on his lips. “Call it... intellectual curiosity.”

* * *

“Geez, Saihara-chan! What a slowpoke! If you keep being _this_ slow then _maybe_ I shouldn’t have considered your application! Sheesh, what a disappointment!” Ouma exclaimed as he stared at his fingernails, waiting for Saihara to walk up the stairs. Truth be told , the detective was already winded from trying to catch up—getting held by Harukawa put them in considerable distance . He wanted to pause and catch his breath, but he realized he simply couldn’t, not when he was only a few steps away from Ouma’s room—a place that the Supreme Leader seemed to regard as a minefield of secrets, even to go so far as to call it his “base of operations” _,_ whatever that meant . Saihara almost couldn’t believe it: he had spent _weeks_ trying to figure out the puzzle that was Ouma Kokichi, and he couldn’t help but feel terribly excited to get a glimpse of what truly goes on in that elusive mind.

Ouma kept talking, some dramatics about Saihara lacking the passion and pizzazz, how he would _never_ be a good subordinate like that, how he could just simply _cry_ because “—my beloved Saihara-chan is ignoring me! How mean!”

“H-Huh?” Saihara blinked as he looked back at the Supreme Leader. He didn’t _mean_ to, but he was just distracted by the way Momota was already kneeling in front of the door, poking thin wires into the keyhole and grumbling about how he wasn’t used to this particular kind of lock, and it hit Saihara with a bit of wonder that Momota _knew_ how to lockpick, and the thought that it must have been something he learned from Ouma blew his mind—

What had been the three of them (Momota, Ouma and Amami) doing? What have they been planning? What was going on?!

Amami’s voice rang in his mind. _“Unlike_ some _people, I’m determined to do something about our situation.”_

Saihara swallowed hard. A part of him didn’t want to acknowledge it, because this was _Ouma,_ the person who had lied on every opportunity, adored the Killing Game openly , didn’t care about anyone but himself and has always been anti-cooperation; the same person who had tricked Gonta into kidnapping them into an ‘Insect Meet and Greet’, told Hoshi who had his motive video, and proclaimed that the trial would be more _fun_ if Momota and Harukawa would ‘tear each other apart’ and debate for their innocence . _That_ was the Ouma Saihara knew. _That_ was who he was: a tactless brat who was ruthless and infuriating and _frustrating_ and...

... and who was this person who’s looking down on Momota with genuine fondness in his eyes, the person who Saihara _suspected_ to have attempted suicide, the person who was probably making moves to end the Killing Game? Who was this person in front of him? Because Saihara Shuuichi, the Ultimate Detective, couldn’t get his head around _this_ Ouma at all. He was finding it _really_ _hard_ to reconcile the two sides he had discovered, so contrasting it made his head hurt. Maybe _this_ Ouma had always been there, and Saihara was simply too blind and prejudiced to see it. Spending so much time with Momota in the past did something to him, he had to admit—Momota was simply _too bright_ —so much so that it was hard to look back into the darkness and search for Ouma who had been hiding himself in the shadows. But now that the Supreme Leader has stepped forward and joined Momota in the light, Saihara was starting to _see_ him, just a little bit, just enough to make out his silhouette...

Saihara was a bit startled when the lock _clicked._ Momota let out a small chuckle as he stood, picking up the tray of food from where he placed it on the floor. Glancing back at the detective, he frowned, concerned. “Where’s Harumaki?” he sounded disappointed.

 _Licking her wounds,_ Saihara didn’t say. He smiled uncertainly . “Ah, she said she wasn’t interested anymore. I suppose she simply couldn’t stand—” _your closeness with_ “—Ouma-kun.”

Ouma looked pleased. Saihara had to wonder why the Supreme Leader held Harukawa to such contempt, but then again, she _did_ strangle him, once... Now that he thought about it, did anyone ever check on Ouma after that incident? He didn’t think so. The thought made him extremely uncomfortable.

Momota frowned, glancing at Ouma's smug expression, before sighing in resignation. “Whatever, I’ll talk to her later. See if I can get her to come around.”

“No need, my beloved Kai-chan.” Ouma replied as he walked inside his room, a grin playing on his lips. “Saihara-chan is plenty enough.”

Momota looked like he wanted to argue, but he followed him in anyway, giving Saihara an encouraging smile as he opened the door further. Saihara’s heart leapt in his throat as he peered inside the room, eyes widening at the scene that greeted him.

The room was, without a doubt, a _mess._ There was an organized chaos to it that reminded him of his uncle’s office back at home. Papers scattered in stacks all about, boxes piled up in the far back, a mountain of trinkets that Saihara recognized as evidences from previous cases situated on the desk—on one corner there was even a whiteboard, riddled with pictures and words and doodles. To his surprise he was there with Amami, marked under the “Trustworthy?” section, and as expected Momota was there too, in his own secluded spot, away from all the others. Nothing was written around the astronaut's photo, but Saihara supposed the mere fact that he was picked out was rather telling. The detective couldn’t help but feel relieved—Momota may trust the Supreme Leader with all his heart, but it was comforting to find some evidence that the self-proclaimed liar wasn’t just playing with his feelings, as he tends to do, screwing with the group every step of the way.

As soon as Ouma entered, he immediately took something that was lying on his bed (something rectangular and multicolored... _huh?_ ) and tossed it inside his bedside drawer, locking it away. Saihara entered the room, closing the door behind him. He felt extremely awkward just standing there and looking around, taking the room in, fascinated by the way Momota moved around so easily, as if the room was his own. Momota was already placing the tray on the desk and tidying the place up, mumbling under his breath about the mess. Ouma softly giggled, before looking over at Saihara.

“Don’t mind the mess, Saihara-chan! Sit wherever you like!” he exclaimed delightfully. Hesitant, Saihara opted to sit on the edge of the bed as Ouma stood in front of the whiteboard, as if he was about to do a presentation. Momota reached at a weird device in the desk, turning it on, and a soft humming sound filled the room, similar to a vacuum cleaner. Saihara frowned, mystified, but Ouma seem to relax significantly. The Supreme Leader grinned.

“So!” he started, placing his hands behind his head. “Since Saihara-chan here is a detective, I’m pretty sure he already has suspicions about what’s going on, _riiiigght_ _?_ ”

He could see Momota watching him from the corner of his eye. Saihara hesitated, before making an uneasy smile. “Ouma-kun, you... are working with Momota-kun... to end the game, right? To get us all out?”

Momota looked like he was about to say something, but he was cut off with Ouma’s loud voice. “Be-Beeeeep! _Wrong!_ ” he declared, giggling heartily . Momota rolled his eyes, but Ouma continued. “We’re working to get rid of _all of_ _you,_ obviously. Momota-chan and I are going to be last men standing, you know! If we make it to the end, we could be the survivors, and we get to get out scot free!” he made a finger gun and pointed it at the detective. “And now that you know all that, Saihara-chan, you need to die!”

Saihara resisted the urge to automatically flinch at the threat. He shifted on the bed, resisting the urge to reach up on his nonexistent hat. “That’s a lie... right? Momota-kun would never do something like that. And you...” he wrinkled his brows. “Ouma-kun, I don’t think you would, either.”

Ouma put a finger on his cheek innocently. “Oh? Saihara-chan is deluding himself that he knows _me_ well enough?”

Saihara straightened up, rather indignantly. “I may not know you well enough, Ouma-kun. But actions speak louder than words. And... I know what you did. In the love hotel... kind of.”

Ouma’s face was blank, but his lips twitched. “You mean, fuck Kai-chan?”

Saihara flushed. “W-Well, if that happened, _no,_ but other than that--- ”

“THAT NEVER HAPPENED!” Momota shrieked, cheeks burning. Ouma bit his lip, as he murmured lowly.

“You wish it did.”

“ _Fuck you._ ”

Saihara stifled a smile. He hated to admit it, but their affectionate banter was rather cute... regardless, he continued, not letting himself get sidetracked by Ouma’s teasing. With the way Ouma masterfully tried to change the subject, he was pretty sure it was on purpose. “So, about the love hotel motive... Ouma-kun, you... tried to kill yourself, didn’t you?” he frowned, unsure how this would be taken if he made a mistake. But the way the two stiffened, he was pretty sure his deduction was on point. “With poison, right? I don’t know why you did it, but one thing is clear: Momota-kun wouldn’t be so close to you now if you’ve done it with malicious intent. No...” he trailed off as he glanced at Momota. “I’d wager that you tried to do it to save Momota-kun himself.”

Ouma sighed. Suddenly he looked really tired as he sat cross-legged on the ground, staring at Saihara with a calculating expression. His hands were tapping absentmindedly on the floor.

Silence. It stretched onwards for longer than necessary, making Saihara's heart stammer. Ouma was staring at him, eyes unfaltering, and the detective felt like hiding away, intimidated by his gaze.

“Kokichi,” Momota said with a sigh, a gentle prodding. “ _You_ brought Saihara here. No point in wasting time.”

“I know that.” The Supreme Leader hissed. He took a deep breath, as if the next words he was about to utter were physically painful. As if it was taking every effort he had not to just toss Saihara out of his room. He hesitated, and hesitated... and _hesitated._ Finally, he bit his lip, and when he looked back at the detective, his lilac eyes were burning with fiery determination. For a moment, Saihara was amazed, because he looked almost like an entirely different person.

“Saihara-chan, I’m going straight to the point here.” Ouma said. “Will you help us catch the ringleader?”


	14. “Welcome back to the Team."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amami starts snapping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have something important to do later today, so I figured: hey, better update this early than not. I apologize for hurting my beloved boy. But it had to be done. O_O 
> 
> WARNING: Self-harm ahead. Please proceed with caution.

“Will you help us catch the ringleader?”

The question hung in the air for just a little while longer. Momota resisted the urge to grin, because look at that! Ouma Kokichi, _willingly_ opening up and asking for help. It was obvious from the tension in his shoulders that he didn’t really like this at all, but he’s trying _so_ hard, and it was making Momota’s heart swell with pride. Saihara blinked in surprise at the question, and Momota watched as his hands curled against the covers of the bed anxiously. He stared at Momota, and then back at Ouma, before looking down and trying to pull the nonexistent hat over his eyes.

“The ringleader?” he asked. “I know it’s my own deduction, Ouma-kun, but I may be wrong and… are we even sure there’s a ringleader?

“Yes,” Ouma replied easily. “Evidence prove they exist. Now you can stop stalling and answer my question—”

“What evidence?” Saihara demanded.

Ouma’s expression was blank, unreadable. “You don’t need to know.”

“I _want_ to know.”

Ouma studied Saihara with a cold gaze, calculating. There was a small sliver of frustration evident at the slight wrinkle in his brows, and when his eyes glanced at Momota, the astronaut couldn’t help but think that he was asking for some sort of support. Momota shuffled uneasily, because what was he supposed to do? Truth be told, the only reason he believed Ouma about the ringleader back in the love hotel was because they both have faith in Saihara’s deductions. Just because the ringleader didn’t make a move in the first trial didn’t mean they didn’t exist. Ever since they got out, Momota knew the Supreme Leader has been uncovering some pretty groundbreaking stuff, despite the fact that Ouma has kept him in the dark about it. Ouma _must_ have found some evidence _now,_ but why didn’t he want to tell Saihara about it?

It was then that Momota remembered it, something Ouma said last night. _Momota-chan doesn’t need to know for now. For Saihara-chan’s sake, don’t ask. It will just make you feel awful._

Maybe Ouma was… protecting him. But protecting him from what?

He was curious. He was _so_ curious. But Ouma said he didn’t need to know _for now_ , and if that was Ouma’s judgement… he could respect that.

“Shuuichi,” Momota started, patting his sidekick in the back. He was so tense. The detective tore his gaze from the Supreme Leader and gave Momota an uncertain look, but Momota didn’t miss the way he relaxed in his touch.

Dealing with Ouma must have been putting him on edge.

“Hey, don’t worry about it! Kokichi will tell us, in due time. Right, Kokichi?” he said the last part with a pointed look, trying to give Ouma the message that while he was respecting the Supreme Leader’s secretive nature, he didn’t quite approve. Ouma simply shrugged, looking down as he adjusted his scarf.

Saihara frowned, frustrated. “So I’d still be in the dark, then,” he murmured.

“Get used to it. You wouldn’t be the only one who didn’t know the whole story,” Ouma replied, before he tilted his head and smiled sympathetically. “I guess since Saihara-chan is a detective, it must be _unbearable_ for you, isn’t it?” Momota shot Ouma a look— _don’t rub it in._ But Ouma continued regardless, unbothered as he skipped happily towards the detective. “So why don’t we make a deal, _Sai-ha-ra-chan?”_

Saihara hesitated. “A… deal?”

“Yep! A deal is a deal! Information trading! I share information, and you give yours in return. It’s pretty straightforward, really. Quid pro quo.” Ouma flashed a huge grin, but the next words he uttered had a challenging undertone. “Prove to me that I’m not wrong in choosing you.”

The detective gnawed at his lower lip. He looked ready to curl into himself yet again, but there was determination in the set of his jaw. “If I give you something good… will you tell me about that evidence you were talking about?”

Ouma smiled cheekily. “Maybe!”

Saihara sighed in defeat, resigned that _that_ was the best response he could possibly get from someone like Ouma. “Then… since you were busy with whatever you did with Momota-kun, I presume you didn’t know about the strange things that happened last night.”

Strange things that happened last night? Momota nearly laughed, because just right there behind Ouma, the note they found was still displayed grimly: _Don’t trust Amami._ There were already a _lot_ of weird things that happened last night, and to find out there was more was just amusing, in an almost morbid way.

“What do you mean?” Ouma pressed. He now looked incredibly interested, which was understandable—with the way Amami had ended up, they really had no way of telling what happened to the academy while they were down in the tunnel bemoaning the destruction of the planet. Strangely enough, Saihara seemed to deflate at his interest, quickly taking back his statements.

“Well! It’s probably not very helpful, but it was just, ah, weird.” The detective placed a curled finger underneath his chin, deep in thought. “It might even be my imagination. Or more accurately, a hunch… it might not even mean much at all.”

“You’re a detective,” Ouma insisted. “Trust yourself a little bit.”

Saihara blinked, seemed to be caught off guard by the genuine, encouraging tone in Ouma’s voice. He smiled uneasily. “I’m… working on it.”

“Well, work on it faster, because the killing game won’t wait for you,” Ouma snapped, as he glanced back up at the clock. “In fact, I can’t wait for you either.”

Momota blinked. “Ouma?”

“There are still so many things I need to do, so _please_ hurry up if you actually have information that could help.” Ouma said with a resigned sigh. “Tell me everything.”

* * *

 _Something must be wrong with me again._ Amami decided.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t aware of it. Something was _always_ wrong with him. He must have somehow acted strange. The look in Ouma’s face earlier, the hesitation in his eyes, the panic in the shake of his hands—Amami knew he must have done _something._ He was tempted to follow after him, ask him what’s wrong, but he had a feeling it would be a bad idea. He didn’t trust himself enough to do it, didn’t trust himself to _not_ make another screw-up.

The headaches were gone, _thankfully..._ but paranoia took their place. It burned its way through him like poison, searing through his insides, making him feel sick. He wondered if something happened last night, but his memory was flawless— _nothing_ happened last night. He just did what he had to do, explored through the areas, and slept late into the evening. When he stared at the list on his arm though, he felt confused. _Why didn’t I scrawl the other locations? Did I lose my pen?_ He checked around his pockets and easily found it. That was when he started feeling _extremely uncomfortable._

_What’s happening to me?_

It was scary, the fact that his body didn’t feel like his own anymore. He was a stranger in his own head, a ghost in his own flesh. He didn’t ask for this. He _never_ wanted this. He didn’t want to deal with this anymore. Amami sighed heavily as he placed his arm over his eyes, still feeling strangely sleepy, as if he was sedated. His body felt comfortable, _so comfortable,_ that it was unsettling. He bit his lip, hard, if only to feel more grounded in the discomfort of his teeth digging against skin.

Digging, digging, _digging_ against skin—

The taste of rust burst in his mouth. Blood. Blood, blood, blood, blood. Amami’s finger twitched at a strangely familiar urge suddenly hit him, and he found himself _craving_ to find something sharp, something deadly. Like a box cutter... or a knife—

_Red, red, red, like ribbons, like rivers, flowing down his skin, ah it hurts, more more more more—_

Amami took a shaky breath and forced himself to close his eyes.

Dreams engulfed him and held him close to its embrace, but a part of him hoped it was death instead.

* * *

Everything was so _complicated._

Ouma sighed as he massaged his temples, already tired of all the _bullshit_ he’s had to wade through. Apparently, two people had acted “strange” last night—one was Kiibo, who had lied through his teeth in a way so _obvious_ that it was unsettling, while the other was Shirogane, who despite Harukawa’s search was simply missing for the entirety of the evening. Two of the people he found most suspicious since the beginning, acting suspiciously on the very same night. This had to mean _something._ Could it be possible that they’re somehow both the enemy? Not unlikely. Kiibo himself could be some sort of surveillance device, given that he had camera for eyes.

Thankfully, Ouma had managed to wiggle out of his own deal to tell Saihara about his “evidence” by exasperating the detective to the point that it was he himself who asked to leave—which was good, in Ouma’s opinion. He was a lot of things, but he didn’t want to be unnecessarily _cruel._ He wasn’t about to tell Saihara about his wrongly-executed ex-girlfriend. He had to admit, these days he’s been a little worried that his skills were already getting rusty, with the way that Momota seemed to easily tolerate his attempts to be irritating. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that perhaps it was not surprising at all—Momota has already proved himself an outlier in many different occasions. The only smart idiot who’d bother. The only smart idiot who’d _care._ The only smart idiot who’d love him, in ways nobody has ever loved him before…

The thought was making him fluster. He shook his head, instead paying attention to the smart idiot in question, who was staring at him intently, unamused. Ouma tilted his head, smiling innocently.

“What’s the problem, my beloved Kai-chan?” he asked, as if he didn’t have any clue why Momota looked so unsettled.

“You know what’s the problem, Kokichi,” Momota replied, scratching the back of his head. “You know _damn well_ what it is.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ouma claimed as he took the unfinished breakfast Momota had placed on the bedside table and started eating heartily. Momota’s expression softened as if he couldn’t help it. The astronaut walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, ruffling Ouma’s hair softly. Ouma looked up at him from underneath his lashes, swallowing his food.

“You’re so troublesome,” Momota murmured with a small scowl, disapproving. “I told you already didn’t I? Keeping things to yourself isn’t healthy.”

Ouma snorted. “Yeah, says the guy who didn’t want to tell me his illness was getting worse.”

Momota immediately went on the defensive. “W-Well, that’s just because we really can’t do anything about, you know? There wasn’t any point in making anyone worry—” he cut off sharply when Ouma reached his hand out and stuffed a forkful of pancakes into his mouth, shutting him up with a small smirk. Momota sputtered as he choked on the food, before swallowing it down and glaring at the Supreme Leader. “Okay, that was rude.”

“You did it first, back in the love hotel,” Ouma pointed out. “Besides, when was I ever _not_ rude?” With a small tired giggle, he shuffled closer and leaned against his body. Momota made a surprised noise, before his hand moved hesitantly towards his shoulder, pulling him close.

“Kokichi?”

“Hm?”

“Are we going to be okay?”

“Beats me.”

Momota’s grip tightened on his shoulder, squeezing softly. Ouma nuzzled against his side, curling up and closing his eyes, reveling in the warmth of the astronaut’s frame—the safety. It has been a rough couple of days, and truth be told, Ouma didn’t really want to think about what lies ahead. He was just… so _tired_. But there was no time for resting, there was still a lot of work to be done. So much work in so little time…

Better start with what’s pressing and urgent. Iruma’s upcoming murder attempt still hung above Ouma like a guillotine. And if he couldn’t get his neck out of the way in time, she’d cut off his head. _Cleanly._

“Kai-chan, do you trust me?” he found himself asking. Sometimes it was hard to believe that he finally had someone who’d want to stay by his side, through thick and thin. Sometimes it was hard to believe that he wasn’t alone anymore.

“Of course I do,” Momota replied without missing a beat, looking down at him with enthusiasm. “How could I not? I love you.”

Silence. Ouma stared at him wide-eyed. Momota’s cheeks flushed as he cleared his throat.

“W-We’ll pretend I didn’t say that,” he amended.

“You’re _sooo_ cute when you’re digging your own grave,” Ouma couldn’t help but comment, ignoring the way those three words sent a flutter in his chest. _Focus._ He didn’t have any time for this right now. Distractions, distractions, distractions— _everywhere._ Ouma took a deep breath as he tried to sort through his thoughts.

“Would you believe me if I tell you…” he hesitated. “… that someone is planning a murder tonight?”

Momota stiffened, alarmed. But he didn’t look surprised no, only worried. “What do you mean?”

“The next twenty-four hours will decide whether or not I’ll survive, basically.”

Momota opened his mouth as if to argue, before closing it back yet again. He almost looked indignant, as if he wanted _so badly_ to tell Ouma that it was impossible, as if he wanted _so badly_ to tell him that nobody was going to kill anyone anymore, but his expression was _pained._ As if he knew that even if he said that, that wouldn’t change cold, hard facts, and it was killing him inside.

“Iruma’s laptop...” he murmured. The Supreme Leader nodded grimly.

“Yep, it’s Iruma-chan. Well, we _are_ in a Killing Game, after all. I wouldn’t... hold it against her.” The last few words were almost choked out, as if Ouma was trying his best to sound lively. “But hey, isn’t that great? One of the smartest people in this school thought I was worth killing! Nishishi!”

Momota frowned. He wasn’t amused. His jaw was set, eyes slightly teary—it took Ouma a while to realize that he was _angry_ . Angry at Iruma. Angry at their situation. Angry at Monokuma. “Why… can’t people just _stop_ bending to what Monokuma wants?! I’m so sick and tired of this—”

Ouma placed a palm on his cheek, wishing he could caress the frustration away. Momota stared back at him, looking completely lost and miserable, and Ouma leaned in to kiss him softly, just to take that all away.

“It’s because we’re all selfish, flawed, _horrible_ human beings, Kai-chan.” Ouma whispered against his lips. “Which is why if Iruma-chan wants to be horrible, then _I’ll_ be horrible, too.”

At that Momota pulled back, concerned. “Kokichi, you’re not planning anything rash, are you? This doesn’t have to be complicated. We can just tell the group what Iruma’s planning. I’m sure everyone will listen to me, and—"

Ouma made a sly smile. “Noooope~! Kai-chan, you’re too simple-minded! You guys _all_ underestimate Iruma-chan too much... If she wants to kill, she _can_ kill, and the best option is to make her _not_ want to kill at all.” He giggled. “Besides, I need to get some blackmail material.”

Momota was lost. “What are you planning to do to Iruma?”

Ouma hummed as he stood up, rocking on the balls of his feet. “Why, it’s simple! I’m going to use this!” he said, as he pulled the card key from his pocket, staring at Momota meaningfully. “Do you understand what this means, Kai-chan?”

Momota’s eyes widened, as he shook his head in mild disbelief. “Ouma, you shouldn’t… you can’t possibly be thinking—”

“Oh, but it _is_ what I’m thinking,” Ouma said, smiling ruefully. “I’m going to make her _despair._ ”

* * *

When Amami awoke, he was half-expecting to see a pair of lilac eyes looking down on him, with an expressionless Supreme Leader to match. But his room was still bare, unnervingly so, and the adventurer was stricken by the realization that at this point, Ouma might not even want him around anymore. He felt himself break a little as he dug the heels of his palm against his eyes, letting out a shaky breath. He simply couldn’t _stand_ being useless, not like this, not to Ouma, not to his sisters, not to _anyone._

He wasn’t feeling sleepy anymore.

Silence. Amami stared blankly at the ceiling, feeling numb. A ball of frustration was building up in his chest, bigger and bigger, making his chest tighten in a way that was making it harder and harder to breathe. But no—he wasn’t going to break down. He was _not_ breaking down. He was Amami Rantarou, and Amami Rantarou was calm, composed, cool-headed and adaptable.

He took pride in it, as an adventurer.

(He was losing it.)

 _Calm down,_ he told himself. He almost wished he was back to headaches and memory lapses. This was _worse,_ because he didn’t have a fucking clue what was wrong, just that something was.

(He was breaking.)

The memory of his own motive video played at the back of his mind, the image of his youngest sister’s mangled corpse. What was he doing? He needed to get out there! To find them, _save them—_

_(Useless older brother.)_

Amami closed his eyes as he tried to make sense of everything that was happening around him. Everything was too much, just _too much,_ and he didn’t know what he had even done to deserve this. A part of him wondered that _maybe,_ nothing around him was real at all, that maybe this was a strange afterlife that relived his personal hell, the hell of being _useless, worthless, pathetic._

He wanted to take control. He _needed_ to take control.

Standing up felt weird. His body was refreshed, but his head was screaming. Screaming, screaming, _screaming_ against his skull, telling him to do something— _anything—_ to take back control. He didn’t know where these sudden urges came from. He couldn’t remember wanting to do something like this before.

On second thoughts, that may have been a lie. He remembered one instance, on the night he first watched his motive video. And that was the reason he knew _exactly_ where to look, where to go and where to find them. The bathroom cabinet was _bursting_ with the items he would need. It almost felt mocking.

_Red, red, red, like ribbons—_

His hand trailed down the expanse of bandages and antiseptic and razor blades, wondering if Monokuma knew. If Monokuma was watching.

_Like rivers, flowing down his skin—_

His arm should be fine. It’s usually covered by his sleeve, and Ouma wouldn’t think of checking anything there, if the Supreme Leader would ever even consider talking to him again. Why was he taking this so _calmly_? He didn’t know. It didn’t matter. Nothing really made any sense anymore.

_It hurts—_

Amami sucked air through his teeth as he moved his hand across, _deeper, harsher—_

 _More. More. More._ **_More_ ** _._

Blood flowed down his arm and into the white sink. The pain was like a burn searing underneath his skin, warming up his insides in an almost familiar sense of comfort. His skin was a canvas of red and red and even more red, staining the bathroom floor beside his foot. He remembered his sisters and sliced _deep._ Remembered Ouma and made into into a criss-cross. Remembered Hanae and—

“F-Fuck…” Amami hissed as a particularly long cut sliced through his arm lengthwise, groaning at the sharp pain it brought throughout his body. He shuddered, his leg almost collapsing underneath him, starting to get lightheaded from the loss of blood. But it wasn’t really _that_ painful, no—the pain was nothing compared to what he had endured back when he died. Back when… he died—

(A drowning boy, a stage on fire, a rain of blood… more. So much more. Too many, too much—)

Amami covered his mouth as he gagged onto the sink. For some reason, he suddenly felt really, really _sick—_

(She was right there, hanging by the neck—)

The cuts on his arm throbbed.

_(“You put her there! You—")_

The pain wasn’t enough. It wasn’t _nearly_ enough—

 _(“—monster! I_ hate _you!”)_

—not nearly enough to punish himself.

Everything went black.

* * *

_Summer was sweltering hot, and the shitty air conditioners weren’t doing him any favors. At least the convenience store was deserted—every person with half a mind would stay indoors in this kind of heat. The employee lowered his hat over his hair as he sat behind the counter, fiddling with his phone, obsessively checking out every damn search result with the keyword “Danganronpa” in it, as he has always had in the last three years. These days the results were already dwindling, the fame of the well-loved reality TV show quieting down after its trainwreck of a fifty-second season._

_He refreshed the page. A new result came up top. It was a blog post from someone who calls themselves_ Tantei-kun _._ Ah… _he thought, morbidly amused._ It was one of _those_ blogs. _The website itself was rather popular, he heard, but he usually never opened it. He was too afraid to read what it may contain. But this time the title of the blog post caught his eye:_ **Danganronpa 53 on the Works: Fact or Rumor?**

 _His heart dropped._ What? _He swallowed hard as he tapped the result. The blog post loaded. As soon as it did, he read the contents, his heart pounding._

 

 

> It has come to my attention that there are rumors going around the internet that the Danganronpa franchise would be getting another season. Some photos of the alleged site for the killing game has been anonymously released last Friday on a site named **ultimaterevival.tdr**. The alleged official name of the season would be **Danganronpa V3: Killing Harmony**. If you want to see the logo, click **here.** There are a lot of speculations that it may have been a prank, with the leading suspect being the rising group named DICE, however I do believe it is different from DICE’s modus operandi. Thus, I do not support this claim.
> 
> I believe these rumors are being circulated to heighten the hype and feed the rabid fans that are still craving for a next killing game. In fact, since the release of these photos, an online petition has already started for the revival of the series. Click **here.** Team Dangan Salmon (formerly known as Team Danganronpa) has yet to release a statement.
> 
> Personally, as someone who is close to those who have lost their loved ones—

 

_The employee skipped that entire paragraph._

 

 

> With the growing concern of the masses for the safety of the VRS (Virtual Reality Simulators), I am fairly confident that this ploy to revive Danganronpa will fail terribly. Frankly, I don’t think they will be able to gather enough contestants for this alleged season, after what happened in Danganronpa 52. However, that doesn’t mean we should relax and not let our voices be heard. A dear friend of mine is hosting an online petition to stop Danganronpa once and for all.  If you are interested in showing your support, please click **here.**

 

 _The employee attempted to scroll down at the comments section, but as soon as he did, he looked away. It was a war zone in there, people who are telling_ Tantei-kun _to fuck off, and people who are telling him to continue what he’s doing. The employee sighed as he lowered his hat further. Danganronpa 53? The thought made him sick._

 _He refreshed the page. No new search results, but the blog post was suddenly gone. He blinked._ Huh?

_Suddenly, the door of the convenience store opened. Out of pure habit, the employee stood up and flashed an amicable smile. “Welcome—"_

_The look the customer gave him made anxiety bubble in his gut. She was staring at him as if she was deciding whether or not he was worthy of her time._ Did she recognize me? _He looked down on the counter uneasily. In the aluminum surface he saw his own hazy reflection. He had made every precaution so as not to get noticed—his once green hair was now dyed black and clipped shorter, hidden almost completely beneath his hat. He had taken off his piercings and rings, and even wore glasses he didn’t really need—all so that he won’t be recognized. But the girl’s stare was piercing, eyes keen. His shoulders tensed._

 _“Amami Rantarou?_ You’re _Amami Rantarou?!” she asked, looking vaguely disappointed._

_His smile didn’t falter, but it had turned unfeeling and cold. “Can I help you?”_

_She had long, wavy red hair pulled back in a ponytail, tinted sunglasses resting on her nose. She must have been around Amami’s age, twenty or so. She huffed as placed a palm to cup her cheek, looking deep in thought. “Yes,” she replied, before putting her hand out in front of him to shake. “I’m Otonashi Ryouko, Head Writer of Team Danganronpa, in charge of the fifty-third season. Nice to meet you, Amami-san.”_

_He stared at her outstretched hand. He didn’t take it. Neither did he reply. Her words, however, were buzzing in his ears._ So it’s true. There _is_ a fifty-third season. _But why would they approach him again? No… no._ _Amami felt numb. Otonashi was still talking. She didn’t seem to care about his rudeness. Her body language was determined, a woman on a mission. Only on the last parts of her speech did he really pay attention._

_“—would love to have you back. You’re joining the cast too, as the Ultimate Survivor. Of course, prize money and benefits apply—”_

_“No,” he murmured._

_Otonashi blinked, as she placed her hands on her hips and cocked an eyebrow. “No?”_

_“No,” he confirmed. He wanted to step back, to curl up in a ball and_ die _. “I’m done with Danganronpa. Please leave me alone.”_

_Otonashi was silent for a long while, worrying her bottom lip. Until finally, she replied. “I see. I suppose that can’t be helped. However, it would make me feel bad if I don’t at least inform you.”_

_He looked up and frowned. “What?”_

_The girl opened her handbag and pulled out a folder from inside, placing it down on the counter. Her red fingernails tapped at it twice, urging him to check the contents, and just looking at those fingernails made him feel trapped, knowing it was some reference to Enoshima herself in the original games. He suddenly felt as if the Ultimate Despair herself was before him, as he gingerly opened the file and peered inside._

_Instantly he felt confused. Inside was a picture of a familiar girl with blonde hair and purple eyes, smiling softly at the camera. Beside her, the words_ **_Akamatsu Kaede: Ultimate Pianist_ ** _was printed in bold letters. He felt his blood run cold._

_Otonashi smiled apologetically. “She volunteered to be a part of the show! Isn’t that lovely? She’s pretty much a confirmed part of the cast already, I already got her audition tapes and signed contracts and everything.”_

_Amami swallowed hard. He could still remember the hurtful words and the sobbing mess and the glares of hatred directed upon him. “This is a mistake,” he decided. “She would never…”_

_“People change, Amami-san. Though I’m glad she decided to support the series again by participating!” The girl pressed her hands together and smiled. “I’m sure it would help the masses realize that what happened last season was just a teensy bitsy mistake. An isolated incident.”_

_Amami was still staring at the file, dumbfounded._

_“That being said, I’m sorry for wasting your precious time,” Otonashi said as she took the file and started to leave. “I’m afraid I have other people to meet, I’m on my way—"_

_“Wait!” Amami called out just as she was about to open the door. Otonashi looked back, and even though he couldn’t see her eyes through her sunglasses, he could practically_ feel _the deviousness emanating from her every movement. She did that on purpose. She_ wanted _him to give in. Amami licked his lips as his hands tightened on the counter, so tense his knuckles had turned white. What should he do? What_ can _he do? This can’t be right. Something had to be wrong. He licked his lips. “I… I’ll join in. I’ll do anything you want. Under one condition.”_

_Otonashi smiled and faced him, confident. “Say it, Amami-san.”_

_He hesitated. “C-Can I talk to her?”_

_She smiled coldly. “Unfortunately, she’s already busy with the preparations for the season. You_ do _know how hectic it is, don’t you? Besides, contestants aren’t allowed to interact with each other before the killing game starts, or have you forgotten?”_

Of course. Fuck. _Amami took a deep breath. His hands were trembling, but he held his ground. Otonashi Ryouko. Head Writer of Team Danganronpa. Head Writer… Head Writer…_

_His eyes widened. Suddenly he knew what to do._

_“You’re the Head Writer.” He whispered. “That means you have the autonomy on the storyline, right?” He would know._

_She cocked an eyebrow at that. “To a certain extent, yes.”_

_“Then let me change that condition.” Amami said as he steeled his gaze, determination in his green eyes. “Akamatsu Kaede… by the end of the first trial, I want her dead.”_

_This seemed to take Otonashi off guard. She hesitated… but eventually she huffed. “You’re playing with fire, Amami-san.”_

_“Don’t I always? Shiro?”_

_‘Otonashi Ryouko’ shifted her sunglasses down, and underneath them were familiar blue eyes, a pair he hadn’t seen in a very long time. Something flashed in those eyes, something stiff and cunning. He felt as though he was face to face with a snake. She sighed as she took off her sunglasses, taking off her ponytail and letting her hair loose. Amami supposed her hair must have been dyed. Shirogane Tsumugi, the woman underneath, grinned._

_“So you recognized me, Tarou?”_

_Amami sighed. “You haven’t been very subtle. Otonashi Ryouko has always been your second favorite cosplay, right after Enoshima Junko.”_

_“And most people don’t even know her! What a waste, am I right?”_

_Amami didn’t reply. Shirogane shifted as she opened the file again and stared back at its contents. “Hmm… she’s quite the star, you know. I’m planning to make her into the protagonist, honestly. But you’d rather have her dead, huh, Tarou?”_

_Amami swallowed hard. He nodded._

_“Well, we need your input more than we need hers anyway. Consider it done, darling.” Shirogane smiled as she took out a pen and drew a big ‘X’ mark upon Akamatsu’s face. The image sent a chill down Amami’s back._

_“Welcome back to the Team."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear what you guys think about these new... information. o u o


	15. "Are you injured?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It starts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what? 
> 
> I'm finally making this fic relevant again, yoooo! 
> 
> So thank you VERY MUCH for patiently waiting! I've had a writer's block for this story for the longest time but as soon as I managed to outline my ideas I managed to get the ball rolling again! Life has been busy and my other projects are also my babies, but I hope the long wait didn't make you all lose your interest! My goal right now is to post for this fic at least once every month if that's possible, especially because I am also VERY excited for what's to come! Can't wait. :3
> 
> Oh, and as of 11/12/2018, I put chapter titles, SK AU style! This honestly helps me remember what happened in each chapter when I'm looking for a scene, so I hope you guys don't mind!
> 
> OH! And by the way: thanks for the 750 kudos. :">

The plan was easy, in theory.

It would require some risks, but Momota didn’t really think going at this without risking anything was possible. He promised to both Ouma and himself that he wasn’t going to let anyone kill anyone anymore, and he was determined to do just that.

Ouma’s plan was terrifying in its simplicity: using a flashback light he tricked Monokuma to create for him (a feat that initially impressed the astronaut until he remembered that even he himself managed to trick Monokuma with the matter of those poison bottles—he should probably check on that later), he was going to show Iruma what lies in the Outside World. Ouma seemed fairly sure that the inventor would buckle at the sight, that it would make her _not_ want to leave the school instead. Though how this could change her disposition given more time, even Ouma admitted he wasn’t so sure.

And that was where the complications would start— would Iruma tell everyone? Even Momota would admit that the utter meaninglessness and despair that accompanied that image was almost too overwhelming, so was it possible that she might be affected badly enough to want to die? She would _definitely_ at least start acting strange and subdued enough to get the interest of the other students, to the point that there was a fair possibility that she could paint herself a potential victim—should another potential blackened arise. Both Ouma and Momota agreed that letting her die was _not_ an option. Though Ouma has mentioned that his insistence on this matter didn’t have any connection to his morality whatsoever.

No… somehow this was connected to the love hotel.

Momota blinked into awareness, realizing that he had been glaring at the thing on his hands for a while now. He sighed, placing the fifth love hotel key into his pocket. Ouma had (once again) dismissed him with a list of things he absolutely _needed_ to do before nighttime tonight, and Momota had no fucking idea why hoarding love keys were even at the very top of the list. The Supreme Leader had basically emptied all the monocoins from his account into Momota’s in order to make sure he’ll get lots, even telling him to make the item sell out if at all possible. While seeing these love keys again made him feel nostalgic, remembering the very place where it all started—the image of it also sent his mind to… _places,_ places that he totally did _not_ want to dwell on right now. Ouma was obviously getting the keys for something important. Not for… whatever dirty things the devil on Momota’s shoulder was whispering about.

He ran his hand through his face, feeling his cheeks turn warm. _God, of all times to feel hot and bothered…_

It’s not like he could help it! He was just cockblocked by Monokuma himself early this morning, and now Ouma was giving him orders to get as many love hotel keys as fucking possible— what the hell was he supposed to think? Ouma even had that almost-smirk on his face when he said it, telling him that what happened earlier today made it perfect for Momota to play the horny teenager and hoard the keys without looking suspicious. Teased him that maybe if he was good, they might actually use one of it for other… more _personal_ activities. Watched Momota degrade into a blushing, stuttering mess before he retracted his statements and proclaimed it was a lie.

 _“Who has time for sex in a killing game? Not me,”_ the bastard said, with a sly sparkle in his eyes. _God_ , his boyfriend was troublesome.

The thought made Momota pause.

_Boyfriend, huh._

The astronaut scratched the back of his neck, unsure how to feel. _Not yet, but soon,_ he promised himself. _Not yet, but soon,_ the ache in his lungs promised back.

_“I’m completely yours... but only if you survive till the end with me.”_

Everything will be fine. Everything _should_ be fine. They got everything under control. But dread was stirring in Momotas’s gut. Something told him something soon was about to go terribly, horribly wrong. And soon.

Back in that moment, he didn’t know he would be right.

* * *

Never in Amami's life did he think a door could be so intimidating. Maybe this was how Momota felt too when he sent him out here a few days ago. At least his talk with Ouma had brought them back together. Amami didn't think he would be as lucky.

The self-inflicted wounds on his arm stung. He already cleaned it up and bandaged it but the feeling of the beautiful clean cuts still made him shiver, the image of the blood running down just felt _so right_ . Like he wanted it. Like he _deserved_ it. And that was one of the things that scared him most of all—so much so that it was already morbidly hilarious. Ah, he was losing it. Ah, what was he even hoping for, standing in front of Ouma's room so awkwardly? He wouldn't be useful to the Supreme Leader anymore, no, not at this state. Even so, Ouma didn't really... hate him or anything, did he...?

(Maybe he should.)

_Should I even trust myself?_

Before he could even knock, the door opened.

Amami yelped, caught off guard as one Ouma Kokichi bumped head-first into him in his rush to get out of the room. He seemed to be up to something again, which wasn't surprising—Ouma was always up to something these days—and the Supreme Leader groaned as he took a few steps back, hand reaching up to soothe his forehead.

"Hey, watch it!" He sounded irritated. Lilac eyes glared up and focused on Amami, mouth opening to spout some more complaints—

—and froze.

"H-Hey," Amami greeted, a hand reaching up to wave at him. An uneasy smile crept up his lips and it felt strange on his face, foreign—suddenly he was hit with the urge to fidget, but that's not right. It didn't really feel _in character_. The quickly blanking expression on Ouma's face only made him even more uncomfortable, made worse by the way he wrinkled his nose as if he smelled something funny. Amami found himself blurting, "You said we were going to meet at lunch today. But you didn't come back to my room so I thought—"

"Geez! I don't really like a clingy ex-boyfriend," Ouma suddenly said, hand lifting to examine his fingernails, sounding extremely bored. "But I guess Amami-chan is that type, huh?"

Amami's shoulders slumped, dread and disappointment threatening to eat him alive. He understood what Ouma was trying to say, the one thing he had been fearing all along. Instead of arguing or complaining or demanding an explanation, he merely sighed in defeat. "I guess that's how it is, huh, Ouma-kun," he murmured, before adding with a half-hearted grin just for the ruse. "You never really loved me anyway."

"Of course not! My heart is for Kai-chan and Kai-chan only!" Ouma playfully fired back.

At least with that, the atmosphere was a bit less suffocating. He teased back, "Remember that I was the one who pushed you two together when you finally get married."

"If he even lives long enough to get to that part."

Amami blinked, sensing the sudden drop in Ouma's mood. It merely lasted a second, but the worry on the Supreme Leader's face was _genuine_ . The tapping of the hand on his leg was impatient, like he couldn’t wait to just get out of here and do whatever he wanted to do, _quick_. Come to think of it, Ouma has been more determined now than ever to stop this killing game. Like he was on a race. Or a time limit.

He remembered how he saw Momota in the warehouse a few days ago, rummaging through the medicine cabinet to get painkillers. Suddenly, he had a really good idea why.

"Well, then, please don't let me keep you," he murmured, stepping back and giving Ouma the chance to leave. The sheer gratefulness in the Supreme Leader's face was evident, as he walked to move past him, right into the direction of the stairs leading down. Amami followed him with his gaze with a bit or wistful longing, wishing that he could stay by his side. But right now, that's probably... not a very smart option. Not with whatever it was that had just transpired.

Halfway down the stairs, Ouma paused, looking back at him with hesitation in his eyes. Even from far away, he called out—"Amami-chan knows I'm doing this to keep him safe, right?"

Amami blinked. Truth be told, he... didn't actually expect that. All this time, he was fixated on the thought that Ouma would cast him away for being useless, worthless—but it didn't really hit him that Ouma might do the same to keep him from harm. That was... actually kind of sweet, but the last thing Amami wanted was to be protected.

He took one step, two—leaning on the rail a bit as he tried to figure out what to say.

There was none. Nothing he could say that wouldn't reveal his utter disappointment. Instead, he just smiled, "Under the secret latch we found on the main hall, I remember finding a locked Ultimate Lab. I think..." He hesitated. Considering the remaining people who hasn't opened their labs yet was him, Ouma and Momota, then—"I'm not sure but... I think it might be yours."

Ouma's eyes widened, before a smile lifted his lips. A genuine smile, something so rare, so delighted— "Thanks! You're the _best_ , Amami-chan!"

Amami felt his heart go warm. It was truly a treat to see this part of the Supreme Leader. His smile turned a bit more pained. "Off you go, then."

"Mhm!"

Watching him go was like letting one of his siblings disappear from his life all over again. Knowing he was diving headfirst into dangerous waters was the _worst_. But Amami couldn't stop him, and now... he couldn't even help him either.

He didn't like it. He didn't like it at all.

Sighing, Amami just leaned against the railing as he watched Ouma go, trying to alleviate the tension bubbling inside him. Now then, what to do? Suddenly he had gone from the busyness of being Ouma's aide to the bleakness of being just another student waiting for someone else to save them. It's not like he could help it—he didn't get to this point by his own choice after all, but it still sucked overall.

After an entire five minutes of moping and staring at nothing, he decided that it was probably better to eat and then try to do something productive. Surely not something connected to solving the killing game, he didn't want to accidentally get in Ouma's way after all, but perhaps doing something worthwhile can ease him from the urge to cut more lines into his skin.

He wasn't stupid, he knew he shouldn't have done it. He wasn't about to delude himself that something so satisfying was in any way healthy.

 _Still_.

The moment he entered the dining hall, he noticed her, just sitting there,  eating. While the group never really ate lunch as a whole, it was pretty strange to find her on her own, especially since she almost always used to have either Saihara or Momota around her. When she glanced in his direction, her expression darkened just a little bit, and Amami remembered their exchange from last night, where he pissed her off, assuming that actually happened at all.

Harukawa Maki. To this day, Amami still didn't know what to make of her.

Their eyes met for a moment, and then... both promptly looked away.

 _Whatever_ , Amami thought. He was just going to make his lunch and eat away.

The silence was a bit awkward, but it's not a silence Amami was very keen on breaking anytime soon. The clang of the utensils against the plate was a bit unnerving, but maybe that was just because he has been on edge since this morning. Harukawa ate with no mind towards him and so did he, and it wasn't really until they were placing their plates back to the sink that she suddenly frowned, wrinkling her nose as if she smelled something strange, not unlike the way Ouma did earlier. She gave him a look, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"You smell like antiseptic."

Amami froze. "I... I _what_?"

"Antiseptic. Disinfectant. Rubbing alcohol." She shrugged as she took his plate and placed it into the dishwasher, catching him off guard. She hesitated, and hesitated. And then hesitated some more. It really didn't seem like she wanted to talk any further. Feeling self-conscious around her for the very first time, Amami looked away, instead deciding to wash his hands under the sink for just a little while longer. Sure, he figured the smell would be around, but it's not like he reeked, so he could just lie and say that he liked disinfecting his hands, right? Big deal. Except he has never really had that habit before. Ouma probably noticed. He was surprised that Harukawa did too, though perhaps that was the assassin in her speaking.

More awkward silence as the hum of the dishwasher continued. Amami dried his hands with a kitchen towel, eager to get away. But then Harukawa spoke again.

"Why do you trust Ouma Kokichi?"

Amami paused, turning to give the assassin a strange look. Her face was blank, giving nothing away. Amami didn't really think it was wise to share anything about what he knew of the Supreme Leader, so instead he shot back. "Why do _you_ trust Saihara-kun and Momota-kun?"

Harukawa frowned, as if the answer should be obvious. "Why shouldn't I? They were the ones who's been leading the group and making sure everyone survives. In contrast, that bastard is—"

"Funny because I have the same answer as you," Amami cut her off, smiling coldly. "I'm not obligated to explain anything to you, Harukawa-san. Agree to disagree, you could say, but you're not the one who's has come to know Ouma-kun dearly. That was _me_."

Her eyes narrowed. "You weren't there when he cried fake tears when we saw your corpse. You weren't there when he used Gonta to kidnap almost all of the students in order to get us all to watch our motive videos. And you weren't there when he drove us all to fight amongst ourselves every time during the trials," she hissed.

 _You weren't there when he tried to kill himself to save everyone_ , Amami didn't say. He simply shrugged and turned to leave. Harukawa bit her lip, frustration evident in the tension in her shoulders, and before he could step out of the kitchen she called out, "Wait."

Amami sighed. _What now?_ He really didn't want to argue about these things any further. He didn't think he had the energy to.

"What?" he asked, annoyed.

"Are you injured?"

To that Amami swallowed hard. He didn't think she'd really ask that outright or even care—it didn’t seem like something she would do. "No," he lied. After another thought, he added. "Why do _you_ care?"

Now she looked just as annoyed. "Why won't I care when your _Supreme Leader_ has been going around dragging Saihara and Momota to places and then you, his self-proclaimed follower comes back wincing every five seconds whenever you lift your spoon to your mouth?” For the first time since meeting her, it was the first time that the assassin looked anything close to emotional. “I have people I care about too. I have people I don't want to get hurt, too. That asshole is going to drag them to _satan-knows-where_ and at this point I can't even stop them "I'm not going to ask about what you guys did last night, but—" she cut off looking away. Her fists clenched on either side of her body.

 _At least tell me they'd be all right_ , her body language seemed to say.

Amamu didn’t know what to say.

There was something... familiar about that sentiment. It was very much like his own. If she was anyone else, he would probably try to comfort her, but he didn't really trust her, not really— and at this point he was very much aware that she was one of the people who could get Ouma killed. He wasn't very fond of people like her who judged without much thought—but he understood that Harukawa's hatred for Ouma probably ran deep—after all, it was the Supreme Leader who outed her real talent to the rest of the group. That kind of resentment could last for a long while.

If anything, Amami could respect her level of concern for the two people who had become dear to her heart. Respected it enough to tell the truth.

"They're gonna be in danger, as we all are. We're still in a killing game, after all," he replied without hesitation. Amami smiled, still a bit strained, but more friendly. "But if it things escalate too much, I'm pretty sure Ouma-kun would rather push them away than risk their lives in any manner. I can guarantee."

She lifted her gaze to give him a doubtful look. "How can be so sure?"

"Well," Amami laughed, scratching the back of his head. "This is awkward but... you could say that's just what happened to me."

Red eyes blinked in surprise, evidently caught off guard. She didn't seem to expect that. "You mean... you were...?"

" _Fired_ , you could say," Amami said with a huge sigh, placing his hand on his hips. He winced at the shift of the bandages, the pain of the cuts under his shirt still running that delicious burn across his skin. It was scary. "Ouma-kun has pretty much banned me from helping, not directly, but the implication is there and I'm pretty sure I'm expected to just get it." Like the time he told Ouma about the truth of Akamatsu's death, it seemed like communicating through the small hints and cues were a trait both of them shared.

Harukawa hesitated as her hand lifted to nibble at her thumbnail, a nervous habit she shared with the Supreme Leader. After a moment, she sighed, red eyes flashing when he stared back at him with a murderous look. "If you're lying to me, you're _dead_."

"I believe I already am," Amami replied, amused.   
  
"T-Then I’ll kill you again!"

"Pffft—" Amami had to cover his mouth and clear his throat to keep himself from chuckling a bit more at the look in the assassin's face. There was indignance there coupled with a faint flustered expression. It wasn't the first time he pulled that line on her, but she kept falling for it time and time again. She huffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

The awkwardness has dissipated somewhat, replaced by a comfortable silence. Amami stood there for a while, wondering if he should just rush away like he earlier planned to. But now it felt like such a waste to leave, not when there was available company right there in front of him—especially now that he couldn't trust himself to keep _himself_ safe most of all. The cuts on his arms still burned, and his body still craved for more—like an addiction, which was strange. He didn't like it.

He was _scared_.

It was unlike him. It was _so_ unlike him and yet—

"Hey, Harukawa-san. Do you mind if I stay with you for just a little while longer?" he couldn't help but ask. As far as he could tell, she didn't seem to have anything else to do. She was probably the last person he'd ask for this kind of thing, but he knew there was little chance anyone would really hang out with him at this point, with him being a “zombie” and all. At least Harukawa wasn't suspicious of him on that part, only of his close affiliation with Ouma.

She huffed once again, casting him another glare. "Do you wanna die?"

Ah, there it was again. Her catchphrase. Usually he'd turn it into another "I'm already dead" joke, but somehow in that moment, the words resonated with him. Did he want to die? _Oh god, yes._ Why was he still alive anyway? None of it made any sense.

His smile twitched, but he didn't reply. Harukawa blinked again, now looking a tad bit concerned, though that concern was quickly covered up with her guarded exterior. She looked away as soon as she realized he wasn't going to reply.

"Whatever," she muttered as she made her way towards the kitchen exit. Amami followed her with his gaze, almost disappointed that she was leaving. But before she left the kitchen she paused, clutching at one of her pigtails and tapping her foot impatiently. She glanced over her shoulder, giving him a look.

"What? Are you not coming with me?" she asked, pouting just a little bit. Amami blinked, surprised.

"Wait, we're... actually going to...?"

"Don't think too much into it. I'm just bored," she replied. "I'm going up to my lab if you wanna come with. I don't care." And with that, she continued off on her own, leaving Amami just standing there... bewildered.

The dishwasher beeped, signaling the end of its cycle.

Amami clutched at his injured arm, hyperaware that he's alone.

And then... his feet moved on their own, following after her.

* * *

Ouma’s so-called "evidence" for the ringleader’s existence still bothered Saihara even well into the night.

He couldn't sleep. _At all._ He had spent the rest of the day just normally because that’s what Ouma told him to do, at one point helping Momota get more coins and love keys from the casino because apparently that's what Ouma _also_ told him to do—and even as he laid on his bed well into nighttime he couldn't help but wonder what was the point in all this. He didn't even see Ouma at all for the rest of the day, but it's not like that's unusual. Momota hinted at him that something big might happen tonight and that he should "watch his back", but other than that, the astronaut didn't even seem to have anything else to say about what that _thing_ actually was. Not knowing only made him more nervous. Not knowing only made him more _anxious_. Should he even be in bed right now? Maybe he should stay awake! What was even the point of helping if he didn't have any idea what was actually happening...?

Saihara sighed as he sat back up. Was there any point in trying to sleep?

The cafeteria was closed at night, so getting in to take a midnight snack was out of the question. He could go to the casino, maybe, but the bright lights already seared his retinas after the five or so hours he had spent helping Momota score those jackpots. Was there even a point to doing such seemingly pointless activities? Who would need so many love keys? It almost felt like a prank, if Shuuichi had to be honest, but Momota's conviction was not to be challenged. He insisted that _yes_ , this was very important. And _yes,_ he was totally going to do as he’s told.

Even without knowing what exactly the keys were for.

 _Momota-kun is just so trusting_ , he thought with a sigh. Though he had to admit, such blind faith has already saved them at least once, in the second trial. It saved Saihara too, when he couldn't trust himself. It surely saved Ouma too, back in the love hotel.

 _Momota-kun is just so amazing_ , he amended.   
  
Standing up, he decided to just go out for a walk, maybe even jog away some of the jitters that was running in his system. It was a shame that they didn't have training the last few days- but that was alright. Hopefully they could get back to it soon. Truth be told, Saihara actually liked getting all tired and sweaty. It was nice to feel his heart pump for something other than anxiety.

The night was cold and Saihara was grateful that his jacket was warm. It was kind of surreal to walk around the school at night, because the moon was always so bright- not to mention the notable lack of crickets chirping despite the vegetation around the area. It was peaceful, but it still didn't keep Saihara's head from buzzing along with thoughts and worries. _How troublesome._ Perhaps he should actually try and do something else? Come to think of it, there were case files in his lab that he has yet to examine…

Well, they were morbid. Not to mention that he didn't trust the rest of the contents in his lab, not really, but it was still worthwhile to try and solve some of the cases there, right? He didn't want to think that he’d ever get into another class trial again but it was better to be prepared. Besides, it won't be for naught, because he'd be able to use the skills for when they get out of the academy, right? Being a detective... wasn't really all that bad, after all. Using that thought to encourage himself, Saihara went on in the direction of the school, hoping he didn't seem too suspicious walking around in these empty halls alone.

It's not like people walking around in the middle of the night was unheard of. In fact, it was rather common. He'll be fine, right? The darkness was kind of scary, though. He walked faster, up the stairs, past the creepy, horror themed floor and up at to his lab, sighing in relief when he saw the familiar pinstriped door. He wheezed a fair bit, trying to catch his breath, before he reached a hand out to open the door. He didn't expect, however, that the door would open before he could even touch it, followed by a familiar person walking through—

He blinked, bewildered. "Iruma-san?"

The inventor immediately tensed when she saw him, arms raising defensively in front of her chest. "E-Eeeek! What are you doing here, Cuckhara?!"

 _Cuck..._ Saihara sighed patiently as he tried to ignore such an inappropriate nickname. Instead he focused at the situation at hand. "What am I doing here? This is my lab, Iruma-san. What are _you_ doing here?"

"N-Nggghh... don't question me! A-And that's not even what I meant!" she was clearly panicking a little bit, tugging at her hair nervously. "W-We were supposed to meet up in the computer room, you know! Are you daft or are you just bad at following instructions?! Does this look like the computer room to you, shithead?!"

"What?" Saihara was so _confused_. "Iruma-san, you didn't even tell me anything about that..."

"I-I didn't? Ah... haha, that’s strange. I probably just forgot," she replied, her hands clasping in front of her as she squirmed in unease. "Even a gorgeous girl genius like me can have off days too, you know?! Fuck, I haven't slept in days! This better work..!"

"Why are we even- whoa—!" the next thing he knew Iruma was holding him by the wrist, looking determined as she dragged him forcefully in the direction of the stairs. Saihara yelped as he stumbled with his steps. Despite everything, the detective couldn't help but notice that her palms were clammy. If she wasn't already holding onto him so tight, they would probably be shaking.

Concerned, Saihara frowned. "Iruma-san...? Where are we going?"

The inventor made a huge grin unbecoming of the nervousness in her grip. She looked back at him with eyes gleaming, conviction evident in her voice.

"Do you even have to ask? We're going to another world!" she proudly declared. _"A world with no killing games and no Monokuma!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those I promised Amaharu to, rejoice! You guys know who you are. XD
> 
> Unlike every other fic I've read which focuses on Maki's crush on Momota, I'd honestly rather focus on the more caring side of her personality. Maki deserves more love from the oumota community, if you ask me. I myself have a love-hate relationship with her but recently... its become a bit more love than hate. <3 
> 
> I hope I'm giving her character justice, unlike the way V3 kinda butchered her writing. Haha.


	16. "You're shivering."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ouma tries to fight fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the update I promised! Whew! :D

The wheels were turning.

Ouma sat on one of the couches with a blank expression as he watched the students walk through the doors of the Computer Room, doing as they were told because _of course_ they would. Everyone would go try and see what the fuss was all about, especially after Iruma went around proclaiming that she’s going to get them out of the academy. Ouma internally huffed—more like going to get _herself_ out of the academy. _Selfish bitch._ In the corner of the room, he noticed Momota looking back and casting him worried glances, but he ignored him in favor of noting the states their classmates came in.

Yumeno, unsurprisingly, was tired. She looked like she’d rather be anywhere than here in the Computer Room in the middle of the night. Chabashira looked alert and careful, sticking close to her beloved mage. Shirogane, Kiibo, and Gokuhara came in together, all wearing a mixture of hope-concern-apprehension on their faces. Momota, of course, came with Ouma, as they were examining the love hotel room for any new bugs that the bears might have put on it, destroying the remaining spinning horse contraption for good measure, as they would ample space for later. That very same room brought back memories, not exactly pleasant ones, but ones that made Ouma feel warm and ever determined. He wasn’t going to give up this time. Momota was here to make sure he won’t.

Shifting his neckerchief to make sure there won’t be any visible hickeys, Ouma noted with interest that Amami and Harukawa came together too. And finally, after a few minutes, Iruma came marching in, pulling Saihara with her.

Ouma’s face lifted into an innocent grin as he launched himself off the couch, placing his arms behind his head.

_Showtime._

“Oh good, you all showed up. I-I mean! _Of fucking course_ you’d all show up! You’d be crazy not to listen to _this_ gorgeous girl genius,” Iruma said as she stood in front of the crowd and scanned their faces, looking incredibly relieved. Ouma wondered what she would have done if they didn’t follow along the way she wanted.

“There’s no way we wouldn’t show up when we’re told there’s a chance to escape,” pointed out ringleader suspect number one, Shirogane Tsumugi herself.

“But I still think it smells fishy,” Yumeno replied. Chabashira mumbled assent.

Ouma used it as an opportunity to, once again, draw attention to himself. “Hmm… really? Doesn’t it smell like something fun is gonna happen instead?”

In the corner of the room, he caught Harukawa casting him a glare before she regarded Iruma. “So, what’s this ‘way’ for getting out of here, anyway?”

“Is there really a way?” Ringleader suspect number two, Kiibo, was skeptical.

Iruma seemed to have gotten her solid confidence back, placing her hands on her hips and smiling proudly. “Duh-doy! Of course there is! Geniuses like me never make mistakes.”

“So… does this have anything to do with what you told me earlier?” Saihara asked, confused. “Something about going to a world with no killing games and no Monokuma?”

At Saihara’s words, a hush fell over the group. And then, like a calm making way for the storm, everyone was suddenly interested. Asking questions, voicing their opinions, talking to themselves. Ouma glanced at Amami’s reaction amongst the chaos but the adventurer only looked concerned, watching Iruma with an intense kind of look. Amami was sharp, Ouma knew. He couldn’t help but wonder if he, in some way, already caught on with what Iruma may be cooking.

And as much as it pained Ouma to do so, he marked him his ringleader suspect number three. Ouma may trust Amami well enough, but he didn’t trust the way _that note_ marked him as suspicious.

Besides, if Ouma’s hypothesis about the nature of this world was correct, then…

Ouma’s eyes wandered back to the couch and the headgears that was connected via wires to that big ass computer. He knew what it was for. If technology like that could exist then—

Amongst the clamor of voices in the room, Iruma was cackling. Demanding everyone else to bow to her if they wanted to know more. Shirogane and the others tried to argue in defiance, but Iruma didn’t seem like she was going to let the idea go. She muttered something about Akamatsu and Saihara bowing to her before,the view waking something inside her.

Talk about having a dominant streak. What Ouma was, was done with her bullshit. If she was going to try and kill him, he’d rather get it over with, quick. The Supreme Leader placed a finger on his cheek, finally speaking.

“Hm? Shouldn’t you be the one bowing to us?”

Iruma deflated quickly. “H-Huh?!”

“You want us to listen, right? So get on your knees and beg like a dog! Everyone is wasting their precious time for a worthless piece of trash like you. So you better bow down and beg. Come on, hurry it up!” he insisted.

“W-What? Why? I stayed up all night getting it ready for everyone—”

 _Getting it ready to kill everyone._ Ouma couldn’t help it. That one line pissed him off. He raised his voice as if to call out to the rest of the group: “Okay then, everyone! This isn’t worth our time at all! Let’s go—”

Maybe it was her determination to kill. Maybe it was her not wanting any of her precious work on reprogramming that world to go to waste. Maybe it was just her masochistic tendencies. Ouma wasn’t sure what finally brought her down to her knees, but suddenly it was happening before him. The inventor was staring on the floor, whining, pleading—“I wanna… talk about it…”

It made Ouma sick. _Disgusting._ All this effort just to kill them off. If only she wasn’t such a big coward… if only he could easily convince her to do more work for him so they could all escape—but no. The only thing noteworthy about Iruma aside from her groundbreaking skills was her self-preservation. She would _never_ willingly work against the ringleader. She would never willingly work against Monokuma.

Unless…

Ouma bit his lip. The irritation must be evident on his face because he felt Momota walk closer and pat his back a little bit. A small reminder for him to loosen up. That’s right, everything will be alright. Ouma has Momota with him. They already talked about how this trip to the virtual world would go. As everyone was distracted by Iruma’s explanation about the virtual world and how it worked, Ouma used the opportunity to hold Momota’s hands and squeeze for comfort.

Momota squeezed back.

It was around the time that they were talking about whether or not going inside the virtual world was a good idea that Iruma opened up the argument that she wasn’t even the one who made it in the first place—and as if on cue, Monokuma and his remaining kubs walked in with a flourish, proclaiming their involvement in the matter. Ouma resisted the urge to roll his eyes because _of course_ Monokuma would claim to be the one who made that virtual world, and of course, everyone would believe him without questioning it. Without thinking _further_ into the implications of it. If the person who set them in this killing game really made an entire virtual world for funsies, then they must be some high-level programmer. Considering all the technology that surrounds them, what else could he have programmed? The bears? The exisals?

The students…?

Ouma glanced at Kiibo for a moment before he set his mask back in place and started on his piece. “There’s no need to worry, it’s just a simulator, right?” he countered to everyone else’s concerns about walking into what Monokuma called a ‘killing game simulator’. “And Iruma-chan just said that she pulled an all-nighter adjusting everything, right? Which means, it _was_ a killing game simulator, but not anymore, _riiiight?”_

Iruma looked caught off guard by the assist. “Y-Yeah, that’s right… I rewrote the program to delete all dangerous objects that can be used as weapons.”

 _Liar,_ Ouma didn’t say.

“Sooo, we should all trust Iruma-chan! We should all trust in our friends anyway!” Ouma said cheerfully. Saihara gave him a strange look.

“Why are you taking Iruma-san’s side, Ouma-kun?” the detective asked, confused.

“Nu-uh! I’m not taking her side, Saihara-chan. It’s just that… I have a feeling that we’ll find something in that world. I mean, Monokuma created this world, right? Maybe he made a bait to lure us in!” He placed a finger over his lips conspiratorially. “Like… a _super duper crazy secret_ hidden in that world!”

Saihara narrowed his eyes, still ever suspicious. “A secret…?”

“Yeeep! Well Monokuma, did you prepare some sort of bait for us?”

For a moment the bear was silent. Staring into Ouma with those unnerving black-red eyes. After a beat, he replied, and Ouma couldn’t help the relief that surged through his body. He thought for a moment that Monokuma would leave him hanging. His entire plan was riding on this.

“A bait? Hmm, yes, of course I have.” The bear faced the rest of the group, grinning widely. “Like Ouma-kun said, there’s a crazy secret hidden somewhere inside that virtual world. It’s…. the _secret of the outside world.”_

Beside him, Ouma felt Momota tense.

“The secret… of the outside world?” Amami asked, finally breaking his silence. For a long time, he had stood in the sidelines. Ouma had nearly forgotten he was there.

“All I can tell you about the secret is that if you get your hands on it, you’ll instantly learn what’s happening outside of the academy!” Monokuma continued.

Amami’s eyes widened, and his jaw set in determination. _No, no, no, no_ —Ouma wanted him out of this. He tried to catch his eye but caught Harukawa’s instead. The assassin cocked an eyebrow and crossed her arms in front of her chest, almost challenging him. Ouma wished there was a way to signal her into keeping Amami in line (they seemed to be staying close to each other, for some reason), but Harukawa wasn’t really adept in reading Ouma’s expressions. Honestly, that only relieved the Supreme Leader. Harukawa knowing him well enough to understand his signals was not a comforting thought.

He’s gonna have to hope that Amami wouldn’t get in the way, for now. Maybe he could make a scene and catch his attention once they already got inside.

“H-Hold on… What’s happening outside? What are you talking about?” Shirogane was pale. “It’s like he’s saying there’s something going on out there, but… that can’t be, right?”

“Do you think it has to do with those meteorites?” Yumeno asked. Chabashira was already shaking her head profusely, going into a battle stance.

“N-No! Tenko refuses to believe those meteorites are real! They couldn’t be, right?”

“Upupupu… is your curiosity piqued?” Monokuma asked as he put his paws over his mouth in a giggle. “Then you have no choice but to go.”

That was what Ouma was hoping for. “Yeah! We wanna know, so we’ll _definitely_ go!”

Saihara was watching Ouma curiously. Finally, he closed his eyes and sighed in resignation. Like he was giving up and letting Ouma handle the reins. When he spoke again, he sounded hesitant but convinced. “I see. If that’s the case, I would like to go into the virtual world, too. There is a chance that we could find information in there… information that could end the killing game.”

“Huh? We can end the killing game?” Gokuhara said, looking interested now. “Got it! Then Gonta will go! Gonta will go to this ‘vir-chew-al world’ place!”

“Wait, you can’t! It’s probably a trap set by Monokuma!” Shirogane insisted.

“But if there is even a small chance that we can stop the killing game, then we should take it,” Kiibo replied, looking determined as well. “That’s what my inner voice is telling me.”

 _Inner voice, huh._ Ouma stared at his fingernails, looking bored even when he’s anything but. This inner voice thing was something concerning now, especially considering what Saihara said about Kiibo acting strange last night. If this was somehow connected to that, then… “Are you still talking about your inner voice? We’re already sick of the Atua stuff.”

“As I have mentioned before, this has nothing to do with Angie’s influence,” the robot clarified.

_Then whose influence is it?_

“Whenever I’m lost, my inner voice tells me what to do. I have always obeyed that voice, and I will continue to do so.” Kiibo smiled proudly. “That’s why I’m going to the virtual world!”

Amami murmured something about wanting to go, and Harukawa mumbled assent. Momota pressed his fists together and sputtered something about following his sidekicks. With six out of ten people already determined to check out this world, the students who were undecided had no choice but to follow through. Within the next few minutes they were already situated inside their comfortable couches, Ouma snuggling against the soft surface as he watched Iruma prance about, playing with the locks of her hair nervously. One by one, their fellow students logged inside, until finally, they were the only ones left.

Ouma played nervously with the helmet, curling the wires around his finger. A part of him wondered why he was even doing this, why breaking Iruma’s spirit through the ‘secret of the outside world’ had to be necessary. He was a leader, a _prodigious_ one in fact—and yet he can’t even convince one scared girl to join his cause without using dirty tricks.

Some _Supreme Leader_ he was.    
  
He took the helmet and placed it on his head.

“Say, Iruma-chan. Is this safe?” he couldn’t help but ask before he booted up, still hearing Iruma walking around with those heels of hers.

“Huh? Uhh y-yes, of course it is, shitty shota.”

“Your whore mouth doesn’t sound too sure.”

“Hey! This ain’t the first time I worked with this tech, okay? I’m not some stupid VR noob!” she insisted. “I know this shit better than any of you fucktards! This is easier than breathing, easier even than those shitty commissions you keep making me do!” She paused at that, as if she remembered something. “O-Oh. Speaking of that…”

Ouma waited.

“T-There’s a problem that keep coming back every time I try to implement your design… care to brainstorm with me? We can just meet inside the simulation, get the chance to talk without the bears sniffing at us, you know? Since you seem to be all over that shit.”

Ouma felt numb. “Okay.”

Iruma huffed, but she sounded relieved. “G-Good. Now, what the hell are you still waiting for, pipsqueak? Get going!”

Ouma sighed and cast his feelings aside as he heard her still waiting for him to boot it up. As if she wanted to be last one in. As if she wanted to do something before she goes and logs in after them. That fact made Ouma worry. Still, he decided he’s trust his deductions. Everything will be fine. They could go in and out of the virtual reality… without someone dying. Ouma believed in this. He could do this.

The last thing he saw before he turned on the switch was the darkness inside the helmet. And then there was blinding light. Green. A logo of the school flashed upon him, followed by the words **Welcome to the Neo World Program.** And then—

Suddenly, the screen went completely black. No, white. No—

Ouma blinked. _Huh?_

 

[ Admin has one (1) message to Ouma Kokichi.]

[DON’T DIE **YET**.]

 

A blink. A blink was all he had. A blink that was almost fleeting, almost enough for him to think he had imagined it.

When he opened his eyes again, he was in another world. The boy stumbled, nearly falling over in the unfamiliar cutesy avatar he was currently wearing. He heard Momota’s distant “whoa!” as he helped him upright.

The message echoed in Ouma’s head. Funny choice of words.

 _Don’t die yet, don’t die yet, don’t die_ **_yet_ ** _._

Which meant there must be a good time to die. Just not now. Not _yet._

“Kichi?” Momota asked. Shakily, Ouma looked up at the astronaut, unsure of how he should feel. It was official—Ouma was convinced. They had an ally outside, slipping in messages in the most inconspicuous ways possible. First the note, and now _this._ The cipher. Those colors- black and white. A signature.

DICE.

A programmer.

Virtual world.

Ouma felt his lips turn up into a smile. Excitement. The implications of this… if it was someone connected to Monokuma they would have made a big spectacle out of it. Ouma just _knew_ they would. But they didn’t. It was such a small moment, a split second, as if it was a message done in haste, something that was meant for Ouma’s eyes only, quickly slipped into the code—

“Kichi, are you alright?” Momota asked. He looked worried. His sweet, caring Kai-chan was so worried. Ouma giggled breathily.

“ _Ecstatic_.”

* * *

The first hour inside the virtual world went by just about how Ouma expected.

Iruma explained the basics of the world well, showed them the phone, the map, let them look around the mansion and the rooftop and the snow outside—Ouma committed every detail to memory, trying to figure out how exactly the inventor was planning to kill him. One look at the map and he already knew it was suspect, especially with the roads on both sides that seemed to lead directly into walls. That was a pathetic attempt at game design if that was truly how the world was meant to be. If Ouma knew something about Monokuma, it's that he doesn't do things half-heartedly. That was why when they walked down the river and experienced the loading point, when the pieces finally fell into place, Ouma wasn't even surprised.

A loop. This world was a loop and Iruma only pretended that the map was finite. Clearly the walls that were there was something she herself placed and by the look of the map, the easy fit of the two different sides of the virtual landscape, it might not even be two walls at all. It was probably the _same_ wall. But what was Iruma's plot here? What's the big plan?

Soon enough, they arrived at the chapel.

Iruma, as expected, led the group through the lush red carpet, past the pews that were for some reason filled with boxes upon boxes of books, tarps, paper rolls and... christmas decorations? Oh, was that somehow the theme of this virtual world before it was manipulated and reprogrammed? Christmas? It made sense, Ouma supposed, especially with the blanket of snow that was still slowly falling outside, nearly freezing him with the thinness of his own attire.

Well, at least he had his neckerchief. Geez, if Iruma was going to recreate their avatars into these cute little chibi forms, you'd think she'd at least bother to make his clothes a little thicker. Or maybe that was how she was going to kill him? Hypothermia? Bury him in all these snow? It probably won't melt, as objects were supposed to be unbreakable, so maybe it would just keep piling and piling upon him until his organs fail and his fingers fall off from frostbite. Being left in the cold all alone, it would probably take ages to find him, especially with his white clothes and the lack of footprints. That was.... a really morbid way to die, wasn't it?

Ouma shivered, but not from the cold. It was from a memory—  the reminder of how it felt to be a five-year-old boy smack dab in the middle of the city, homeless and lonely and _freezing_ and scared—

Suddenly, he felt a weight around his shoulders, and then a burst of warmth. Ouma snapped from his thoughts, turning his head to realize that Momota had placed his jacket around him. He blinked a few times, clutching the jacket closer towards himself, looking up at the astronaut with confusion in his eyes. "K-Kai-chan, what...?"

"You're shivering," Momota pointed out, and despite the obvious tension in his body, there was love in those gentle eyes. Ouma felt his cheeks turn a bit warmer. _Huh_. Momota's jacket worked wonders. He cleared his throat.

"Kai-chan is such a good subordinate. Always caring for his Supreme Leader!" he teased, grinning wide as he pushed his hands through the sleeves. He felt almost giddy at the sheer size of it compared to his small frame. "No take backsies, now! Kai-chan's jacket is mine!"

"Yeah, yeah. I still got my shirt and button down anyways." Ouma looked down at his body and realized it was true- Momota really does seem to wear a whole lot of layers. He wouldn't be surprised if he still had a wife beater underneath that kumadori-designed shirt. Come to think of it, does he actually? Ouma couldn't remember. Everything happened too quickly earlier.

When he looked back at Momota again, the astronaut's cheeks were flushed. A wave of amusement broke through the tension curling inside Ouma's body, followed by a small hint of desire as he recalled better, more _satisfying_ memories. The Supreme Leader winked at his kind-of-but-not-quite boyfriend, who let out a low embarrassed squeak, followed by a light punch against his arm. Ouma giggled.

What happened in the love hotel stays in the love hotel. A couple hours of stress relief didn't hurt anyone.

Well, it probably hurt _Momota_ , of all people, given that time that's spent inside this academy is time spent with him not having any proper medical attention. But after all that, Ouma didn't think Momota really would complain.

Of course he won't, Ouma was good at what he does.

Ah, bad memories again. _Bad Kokichi._

He set his attention back to the matter at hand.

Iruma was already standing before them, a proud grin on her face, surveying the group as the last of them walked in. The plan was to find the 'secret of the outside world', figure out what it was, and then leave the virtual world with the new information they had— so naturally, faces fell when they saw the mess inside the room, the same mess they had to wade through to find the "truth" they were looking for. Yeah, truth with the big quotation marks, totally. While the rest of their classmates smelled fish, Ouma smelled bullshit.

"Well, this is the chapel! It's a mess, huh," Iruma commented.

"Nyeh... searching this place is gonna be pretty hard," Yumeno complained with a dejected expression. And as usual, there Chabashira tried to reassure her.

"Don't worry, Yumeno-san! I'm sure with your magic and Neo Aikido, we can overcome _any_ obstacle!"

"What are you even gonna do with your Neo Aikido?" Kiibo sassed with that hands up, rolling eyes thing that Ouma honestly found pretty funny. "Smash boxes open?"

"I'll smash _you_ open, degenerate—!"

"Now, now," Amami interrupted, placing his foot down before the situation blew up. "Now's not the time to fight. We still have this 'secret out of the outside world' we need to find," his expression darkened subtly, and Ouma knew then that he must still  be pretty interested in what the secret was. _Shit._ He couldn't blame him, really- not when the guy has been going through all these weird things since he came in this academy, not to mention the gruesome motive video that Ouma _knew_ he was struggling to completely ignore. "Now that we've checked all the important areas in the virtual world, why don't we split up and start looking? It will help us cover more ground, yeah?"

"Well, then!" Momota pressed his fists enthusiastically. "Let's split into two, maybe? One group for the mansion and one for this chapel. Or maybe abother one to look through the woods? Either way, Shuuichi, Kokichi and Harumaki should— "

"D-Don't  steal my ideas, zombie dick! And shut the hell up, goatee fuck!" Iruma argued, sounding almost panicked. _Interesting_ . "I know this world in and out so it's only right that _I_ should decide who's going where, okay? Fucking bitch ass cunts ruining my spotlight— "

"Fine, fine! Just decide already. Your cussing is offensive to my ears," Shirogane complained.

"Everyone should just focus and work together! Please, no fighting," Gokuhara agreed.

Iruma placed her hands on her hips and stared at the group critically. "Look, there's not gonna be any problem here if people just don't stick their dick where it doesn't belong."

Kiibo was confused. "What is that even supposed to mean?"

"Follow my orders, that's what!" Iruma snapped. She paused for a moment, as if she was considering something. She glanced at Momota and then at Ouma, electric blue eyes no doubt snapping onto the galaxy jacket that was now hugging his lithe frame. For a moment, Ouma thought he saw caution flash on her face, but it was gone as soon as it came. Finally, she continued. "Hey, you- titless," she pointed at Harukawa. "I want you to go search the rooftop of the mansion. And you shitty shota, you're in charge of the salon."

"...alright," Harukawa replied without objections.

"Okay!" Ouma replied cheerfully, placing his arms behind his head. Better to go with what Iruma wanted for now.

"We need four more people to search the mansion. Doesn't matter who," Iruma continued.

"Nyeh... The plan became sloppy all of a sudden..."

Ouma immediately grabbed the opportunity. "Oh, I see! Then Kai-chan should come with me. We can search the mansion's surroundings too, since no one else wanted to deal with the cold, _riiiiight_?"

Momota's expression, which was starting to look worried, brightened up. "Oh? Oh. Sure!"

"Tch," Iruma looked genuinely annoyed. "You two lovebirds are just gonna fuck in the snow ain'cha? Kinky ass shits."

Momota's face flushed deep red. "We aren't…. we're not gonna—!"

"Kyahahaha! If we let you be, you're totally just gonna fuck like rabbits! That's why you need _this_ gorgeous girl genius to get you in line! Goatee fuck, you're staying here in the chapel. Detective dick, Plain Jane and magic lesbians over here should be fine to go look around the mansion."

"Wait since when did _you_ become the leader of this group? I ain't going anywhere without Kokichi!" Momota stubbornly said. That worry was making a comeback, of course it would. Momota wasn't going to let himself be far away from Ouma when he _knew_ there was a threat to the Supreme Leader's life.

"Well, I don't see why there's such a huge problem," Shirogane said, cupping her cheek thoughtfully. "Why do we even have to argue over who goes where?"

"I agree! It shouldn't matter where we are going! As long as we find what we are looking for." Kiibo’s faceplate lifted to cover his face a bit, as his voice lowered in a scandalized manner. "B-Besides, I believe these small cute avatars are not even conducive to sexual intercourse— "

"This is so stupid," Harukawa huffed, already sounding pretty annoyed. She looked over at Momota and snapped. "I changed my mind. Momota, swap with me."

Now, Iruma looked nervous. "W-What?"

"I realized I don't have much to deter the cold," Harukawa replied coolly. "And since Momota and Ouma are more than willing to walk through the snow, checking the roof shouldn't be too hard, right? I mean, this world calls it a mansion, but not really all that big anyways."

Iruma shifted uneasily. She seemed to be really adamant on separating Ouma and Momota, and one look at Harukawa's eyes proved that the assassin must have realized this as well. "B-But—"

Ouma clapped his hands together and grinned. "That settles it, then! Thank you for your kind sacrifice, Harukawa-chan!"

Harukawa huffed. "Hardly a sacrifice when you guys are gonna be the ones out in the snow."

"But hey! The snow is cool. I mean- not cool as in cold, but cool as in _great_ , you know!" Momota grinned. "I like it!"

"Nghh… W-Whatever! Let's just get this shit over with!" Iruma relented, frustrated.

Ouma was tempted to blow her a raspberry and call this round his win, but then he remembered something. Iruma wanted to meet him, yes, but she never really indicated where. He walked closer. "Hey, Iruma-chan, before we go— " he leaned in and asked his question in a soft whisper. Iruma let out another annoyed grunt, seemed to consider it, and in the end told him to meet her in the mansion roof.

Fair enough. Kokichi just needed to find the flashback light before their supposed meeting. Momota and him being in charge of the roof was perfect too, that meant Ouma will always have backup. He wasn't alone anymore.

Momota will keep him safe.

The search for the 'secret of the outside world' went by without any hitches. Monokuma promisd it would be outside, buried in the snow under a tree near the starting point. All he needed to do was to check the trees around the vicinity and sure enough there it was, the flashback light, the item that he hoped would convince Iruma not to kill anyone anymore.

_Don't kill because there's no point. Don't kill because this academy was by far a safer place. Don't kill because only despair awaits outside._

Ouma knew it was probably a lie, but it's a _kind_ one. Iruma may be a sneaky backstabbing bitch, but he knew she wasn't a bad person. She didn't _really_ want to kill, does she? In her heart, she couldn't possibly be okay with committing this premeditated murder.

Ouma hoped not. It wasn’t Ouma's style to believe in people, but this time he wanted to.

Sneaking the flashback light up to the roof could get complicated, but thankfully, only Saihara was in the main hall when they checked. Saihara, who pretty much already knew that something was going to happen, only nodded as he let them pass through him and up the stairs. He could hear Chabashira, Yumeno and Shirogane clinking dishes and talking loudly in the dining hall and kitchen, so he supposed that was good. Nobody should interfere. He needed to talk to Iruma properly here. Nobody was going to die here.

The snow was slowly falling. Ouma pulled the jacket around him tighter. Momota brushed some snow out of his hair as he mumbled under his breath, something about snowflakes.

They waited.

Was it taking too long, or was Ouma just impatient?

The more he thought about it, the more he wondered why the hell Iruma didn't pick to be part of the group exploring the mansion. Surely it was more convenient? Maybe the mansion group was the suspect list she was planning for. Maybe by being in the chapel, she's creating herself an alibi.

It may not seem convenient given the distance, but for all Ouma knew, Iruma had created herself a cheat code. Maybe she can pass through that solid wall. Maybe she can even teleport. This is a virtual world and she was the programmer. What _couldn't_ she program herself to do?

Ouma mulled this over as he absentmindedly peered through the binoculars in the rooftop. It was really unnerving how he couldn't see anything past the loading point. What the saw by the river though... made him pause.

The wooden makeshift bridge was gone. And there in front of it stood Gokuhara with Amami, the former panicking while the latter tried to calm him down. Ouma frowned.

_...huh?_

Something was happening. Something seemed wrong. Even so, Ouma tried to calm himself. Any moment now, Iruma would probably appear. He glanced back at Momota, who was holding the flashback light tightly, looking lost in thought as he stared up at the sky. Everything will be fine. Nobody would have to die. Ouma will be fine. He wasn't alone anymore.

 _Kai-chan will protect me,_ he reassured himself. _Kai-chan will keep me safe._

He immediately felt better.

At least, until he saw a stray beam of light circle around Momota's feet. Momota snapped out of his thoughts and gasped. "W-Wait, what—"

It was sudden, almost instant—Momota's eyes widened as he took a step back but the circle followed him, and in a manner resembling the log-in animation, the light lifted up to envelop him. Eyes wide, alarmed, Momota reached out towards Ouma.

"Koki—"

The light faded, along with the avatar of the Ultimate Astronaut. The flashback light fell to the ground with a sickening crash, shattering into a million pieces.

Ouma stood alone in the in the rooftop, dumbfounded.  Clutching onto the jacket around him, willing himself to think, think, _think_ — but at that vulnerable moment he was stumped. Caught completely off guard. He couldn't even care about the flashback light, nor could he care that the pieces of metal, wires and  glass somehow went against the entire logic of this virtual world. He couldn't care about Iruma possibly arriving any minute, couldn't even care about the strangeness of the missing bridge. His head was quickly filling with worry for one person, and one person alone.

"Kai-chan...?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I implied that Kaito and Kokichi had sex in the love hotel before this chapter. I just felt like full on smut is kindaaa out of place in this story, to be honest. I may or may not write it as a separate one-shot, though. So if you guys are interested, just tell me, I guess. :3

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me, if you want! :D  
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> 
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